


If You Fall, I’ll Help You Catch Yourself

by sparksx4



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Reader is Number Eight, Reader-Insert, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksx4/pseuds/sparksx4
Summary: Life in the Academy was something no-one on the outside could comprehend. From the abuse Reginald inflicted upon his children to the dysfunctional nature of the relationships amongst the children. Life was often crazy.Y/N Hargreeves, also known as ’The Puppeteer’, decided to write a biography, highlighting the extent of the trauma and how it still affects the members of the Umbrella Academy today; while also detailing the fond moments between siblings that happened behind the scenes..Or basically reader's life growing up in the Academy.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Reader, Ben Hargreeves & Reader, Diego Hargreeves & Reader, Klaus Hargreeves & Reader, Luther Hargreeves & Reader, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Reader, The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy) & Reader, Vanya Hargreeves & Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is the first story that I've published to AO3, so I'm pretty excited and nervous to be sharing it with you all!  
> This story will be formatted in the way of a biography written from the perspective of the reader who grew up as Number Eight. It's set maybe a year or so after Vanya published her biography, but before the first episode of the show.
> 
> I also wanna state that the first chapter does just kind of establish everything and focuses on the world-building of Number Eight, but the chapters after that start to read pretty much like a normal fic. 
> 
> EDIT (4/11/20): I did change the title of this story!! It used to be called 'Number Eight: The Story of My Life as a Teenage Superhero'. Sorry for any confusion <3

I was born on October 1st, 1989. I was one of an unknown amount children who was born to a woman that had not previously been pregnant before going into labour. I, along with my siblings, was born at the same time in different places around the globe. I was soon bought, for most likely an excessive amount of money, by my now-father, Reginald Hargreeves. I was then taken from my place of birth (of which I was never told) and raised in what is now known as the Umbrella Academy.

Upon my adoption (if you could call it that), I was named Number Eight. It’s even printed on my birth certificate, something I could never be bothered to get changed.  
I was never given a name by my father, instead, my siblings and I were numbered One through Eight. 

However, once we grew older and started to want normal names, our father allowed our mother to name us. We all jumped at the opportunity to have a name, it was an exciting addition to our boring lives. See, it may have seemed to be thrilling living in the Academy, with our missions and superpowers, but the majority of our lives there was spent either studying or training, our days used to be 11 hours long, starting at 6:30 am and finishing at 5:30 pm, allowing us just enough time to clean up before dinner and then we were sent to bed.  
Overall, we were only permitted 30 minutes of free time on Sundays.

When our mother named us it was a pretty special day, after weeks of pestering both her and our father, we were finally going to get names, like normal kids. Mom gathered us together into the lounge room and sat us down, she then began one by one to consult us and name us with what name she felt suited us best. 

Number One, as usual, went first. Mom sat next to him on the lounge and held his hands, we all waited with baited breaths as she silently analysed him, what felt like hours had passed by but probably had been only two minutes at the max. Then finally she said, "I think the name Luther would suit you best," with that sweet smile upon her face. 

Luther was the most hesitant out of us all to accept his name, he felt as though he was rejecting the name (or more so number) our father had given him. He initially just nodded his head and left, walking up to his room to consider the new name. It wasn’t actually until a few days later after all of us only calling him Luther that he gave in and accepted the name, but I always saw him beam with pride when our father referred to him as Number One.

Diego, always the momma’s boy, practically leapt up to the couch and grabbed her hands, eager to find out his new name. It took her a considerably less amount of time to think of Diego’s name, and we always suspected that they had secretly talked about this before during their times together. But nonetheless, Diego took to his name instantly, demanding that we never call him Number Two again. 

As soon as Allison received her name, you could tell that she loved it, and it really did suit her. She jumped up and announced it as you would announce a celebrity’s name at an award show, she then proceeded to quickly run up to her room to practice writing her new signature. 

When Klaus received his name, he asked for the spelling and wrote it down on his forearm with a sharpie. He then carefully began repeating his name over and over again, as if not to forget it. 

Ben simply thanked Mom for his name and proceeded with his day, as did Vanya, quick to follow in Ben’s footsteps. 

As always, I was last and I waited impatiently for my name, squirming with excitement on the spot. I’ll never forget the moment that Mom took my hands and looked into my eyes, I was practically bouncing in my seat at this point and it was as if when she knew I couldn’t wait any longer, she finally said it. 

"Y/N Hargreeves." 

It felt like the happiest moment of my child life, it was something so small that made me so happy. A name. Finally, something I could call my own. Something that was unique to me, so unlike the identical uniforms and haircuts we were all required to have.

Five never received a name, we used to think it was because he didn’t care, maybe that he thought he seemed too cool for the excitement over something so small. But upon reflection, I think he wanted to be just as unique, and what better way than to have a number as a name?

The day we received our names was chaos. It was easy enough to remember our own names, but we were so absorbed in them that we mostly forgot about each other. Then suddenly we also had to remember the six (or in Five’s case, seven) names of our other siblings.  
We each got the names mixed up for at least 3 days. We had to remember not only the names, how to pronounce then and how to spell them, but also who they belonged to. My name was often confused with Allison’s, and Luther and Ben’s names were also mixed up pretty frequently, which agitated Luther to no extent.

The most memorable of this dilemma was when Luther called Diego by his number and then proceeded to correct himself and call him Klaus. This lead to one of Luther and Diego’s fights that landed both of them in Mom’s infirmary.

Luther was also the one who would instantly resort back to our numbers when he was mad at us. Petty arguments weren’t uncommon in the Academy, whether it was us siblings against our father (which would result in punishment) or, more commonly, us siblings against each other. However, Luther had a particular talent of bringing a petty argument into a full-blown fight by just offhandedly calling us by our number. But he never intended for this, he was simply repeating the words of our father - and we were all guilty of that.

There was no particular order to our numbers, we always just assumed it was the order in which he bought us. However, the numbers soon began to define us and made who we were.  
I always will wonder if we each were given a different number would our personalities have changed? For example, Luther, our Number One was a natural leader. He was encouraged by our father to take charge and lead by example, but if he were to be named Number Six, would he be different? Would his unwavering loyalty to our father still remain? Or would he follow his own passions as the rest of us did?  
It was always an interesting thought that lingered at the back of my mind, but one that will never be confirmed. 

The details of my birth and biological family are ones that I probably will never know. Our father is an extremely private man, with both his own life and ours. As children, we once asked our father for the details of our origins, but instead of an answer, we got told off. His exact quote being "knowledge is an admirable goal, however, you children are and forever will be the Umbrella Academy. Nothing more and nothing less."

It wasn’t uncommon for our father to flip flop between telling us we were the heroes of our times, to telling us we were still failures in his eyes. I believe it was a tactic used to constantly push us to achieve more.  
This technique worked amazingly when we were children as all we strived for was our father’s approval. Constantly pitted against each other in training and in life, just for that nod of the head from our father that would tell us "you’ve done an acceptable job today".

Beside our father, we also had our mother and Pogo to help raise us. Mom is a robot that was created by our father to be a live-in nanny for us when we were younger, and as we grew she quickly became a mother figure for us all - children desperate for attention and a robot modelled after a 1950s housewife was pretty much a guaranteed bond. 

In addition to Mom, we also had Pogo, he’s a chimpanzee who our father made sentient (life at the Academy was something else). Pogo was a wonderful influence in our childhood, he was kind and gentle and the father figure we so desperately wished we had. Both Pogo and Mom helped with our studies growing up, which were almost as extensive as our training. 

We each had to learn a minimum of five languages as well as having to have high knowledge of each of the 'basic' subjects, meaning English literature, Mathematics, all of the sciences, etc.  
Furthermore, once we reached 10 years old we were required to pick up additional studies that related to our powers. However, I will get more into our daily routine further on.

When we were 2 years old, the first of our powers began to show. I had to ring and ask Mom and Pogo for the specifics but this is according to their recounts. Ben was the first to show his powers, during a considerably bad (or at least, in our father’s eyes) tantrum that caused the Horror to unleash from him. At the time, the Horror was still relatively small and caused little damage, but it was that moment that our father realised what we were all potentially capable of. After this happened, we were often pushed to try and provoke a reaction from us to make our powers appear. Five’s powers came next as one moment he was in his crib, crying out for one of his toys and the next moment he was on the floor, happily playing. One by one our powers began to show themselves and our father finally realised just what he could do with us. 

According to Pogo, mine was one the last of the powers to show up. It’s unsurprising considering how specific it is, rather than Luther’s super-strength or Five’s teleportation, which both showed themselves easily. 

It was nearing our 4th birthday when I finally discovered my powers. The typical childish argument phase had begun in the household, where us siblings would bicker amongst each other over the smallest of things. Luther had decided to pick a fight with me about how I had no powers (of all things), during this argument he began to advance on me, and of course being the small, powerless toddler that I was, I threw my hands up in front of me to shield myself. But it was as if there was an invisible wall between Luther and I and he was paralysed. Allison had stumbled across the scene and ran to get Dad, alerting him that we had found out my power. 

Upon the discovery of my powers, my individual training began. These were sessions dedicated to learning to harness and control our powers, with each session being more exhausting than the last. It was encouraged to keep our training sessions to ourselves and not discuss them amongst each other, our father probably did this to create more tension between us children and to spike a jealously amongst us. However, as children do, we still talked about it.

As the training sessions advanced, as did my power and it was soon discovered that my power was 'motor-skill manipulation' as my father called it, a form of telekinesis. I had the ability to control a person’s movements with just my mind and my hands. My ability also brought about my famous nickname of 'The Puppeteer', one that was initially stated in an interview by a quick-witted journalist that soon caught on and spread to the world. My training consisted of my father bringing in willing volunteers who I would then be forced to manipulate to my father’s commands, we would do this for hours until I was on the brink of passing out from exhaustion, or in some rare cases, I had passed out from exhaustion.  
The volunteers would then be rumoured to forget the experience from Allison and pushed out the door with a large wad of cash. From what I know, my siblings have similar experiences with their own training, each being pushed to their limits time and time again.

With the discovery of Allison’s power, who was the last to find hers, it was soon revealed to us what we were training for - to save the world.  
At the time, we thought it was great. We would get to be superheroes, help people and stop the apocalypse our father always claimed was bound to come one day. 

What we didn’t know is that this would define our lives forever, and change us.

At just 3 years old, we had begun our training to become the teenage superheroes that would be known as the Umbrella Academy.


	2. The Daily Grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for your support!!  
> I made sure to whip up this chapter extra quickly! I really like it and could barely stop myself from writing it!!

Every morning without fail Mom would wake us up at approximately 6:30 am with a knock on the door and her sweet voice filling our bedrooms, "darling, it’s time to wake up." We then had half an hour to get ready before breakfast.

We were all required to wear matching uniforms every day, except when training or sleeping, for which we all had matching clothes as well. The only occasions we were allowed to wear anything else was on missions or for photoshoots.  
Our uniform consisted of a short-sleeved, white linen shirt with a black tie. The boys were required to wear a red, plaid vest, a grey blazer with the Academy logo, along with grey shorts that fell just above the knee. While the girls were required to wear a red, plaid dress overtop and the same blazer. In addition, we also had to wear black, knee-high socks and sensible black shoes. In retrospect, it was so unusual for us to wear these uniforms considering we rarely left the house, and that we looked like school children despite us never stepping foot in an actual school.

At 7 am we were expected to be downstairs for breakfast. We were required to arrive before our father did and stand behind our designated chairs at the long dining table. It wasn’t until our father arrived and gave us the command to sit that we were permitted to do so. Mom would then serve up the meal and we would all dig in. 

I remember watching one of my first movies after I left the Academy and being confused by the family on the screen as they ate dinner. They were all talking to each other, happily, about their days. I was astounded by the apparent lack of manners, but also jealous. Is this what normal families were like?

Our meals were quite the opposite. A recorded lecture, often by Herr Carlson, would play in the background of our meals, but other than that the only sounds would be of our cutlery clanging against our plates. Talking wasn’t allowed during meals, expcet on the occasion when our father would use it as an opportunity to berate us.  
However, we were allowed to entertain ourselves at the table, as long as it wasn’t disruptive. 

Luther and Allison would often share soft smiles as if they had a secret only they knew about - it irritated us to no end when they would act like that.

Diego would use one of his many knives to carve into his dining chair. I managed to get a peek once and it seemed he was in the process of writing his name.

Klaus would often be making faces at everyone else, trying to make us laugh, which would promptly earn us a disapproving look from our father. But as he grew older and began his descent into drugs, he started being more reckless, even going as far as to roll joints under the table. Where he got his weed from, no one knows to this day.

Five always looked as though he was a million miles away, always so deep in thought. I used to wonder whether he even slept, or if he just laid in bed thinking. He was always so smart, constantly solving equations or considering theories.

Ben would almost always be reading at the table. Sometimes the Horror made him feel nauseous, which in turn meant he had trouble eating anything at all. But by reading his books he was able to distract himself enough to at least force down enough food to satisfy his hunger. His favourite author was Anton Chekhov, a Russian playwright and short-story author. Ben had always been a fan of the classics.

Vanya would simply just eat quietly with her head down, always so quick to draw back into the shadows. We sat across from each other at the end of the table, and sometimes I would lightly kick at her feet and we’d play a secret game of footsies under the table. This always got a smile from her and those precious smiles made my heart swell.

On the days where the mood was light, I would use my power to jerk other peoples hands around while they were trying to eat, making them spill their food. Klaus always found this hilarious and would encourage me to do it over and over again. Our favourite target by far was always Diego, who would have such an overreaction to the prank, only to forget about it by the time the meal was over.  
Other days I would just sit there, observing everyone.

Once breakfast was finished at 7:30 am, Mom would collect our plates and we were required to go to the library to meet Pogo for our lessons. We would first have 3 hours of group study, which we would all sit together at a circular table and study our general subjects of English literature, maths, languages, etc. However, we were far past the basics of these studies. I can confidently say that at age 11 we were studying these subjects at the level of professors of the subjects, nothing was ever half-assed at the Academy and that included our studies. 

After group sessions, we would then have 2 hours of individual study, which was often where we studied subjects that our father and Pogo believed related to our powers and would help us advance. I had to study biology and human anatomy extensively. My father believed that if I continued working with my power, I would be able to control not only people’s motor skills but also the movement of their internal organs. Luckily, my power never advanced that far - I don’t think I’d have the stomach for it anyways.

It was during our 'school hours' that we were most likely to get up to our hijinks. As long as we finished the work Pogo had set out for us, he mostly turned a blind eye to any antics going on. I think he understood that we were just children trying to live our childhoods.  
It was during these times that some of my fondest memories come from. One of them being the day that Vanya proved to be braver than all of us.

We were sitting in our group study; it was one of the rare times Pogo left us to our own devices, trusting us to finish our work efficiently. Suddenly, two high-pitched screams from Allison and Klaus pierced the silent air, causing us all to jump. 

Luther, always the leader, immediately jumped into action, asking "what’s wrong? What happened?"

"It’s a rat!" Screamed Allison, pulling her legs up on to her chair. 

Next to her, Klaus had completely launched himself on to the table, standing up on it with a pen in his hand brandished in front of him like a sword.  
Ben was next to pull his legs up underneath him and continued reading his textbook. I quickly followed his lead. Meanwhile, Five simply teleported from his chair to sitting cross-legged on the table, his eyes never lifting from his studies.  
Vanya merely sat in her seat, her eyes lifting briefly at the commotion and then back down at her paper.  
Luther and Diego had bent down towards the floor to look for the rodent, both determined to be the ones to find it and be the hero of the day. But just as quickly as it had run over Allison and Klaus’ feet, the rat ran right past their faces, causing both the boys the jump back and clamber onto their chairs for safety. 

"What do we do?" Klaus cried out. 

"Keep your voice down for starters, we can’t have Dad hearing us," I said. 

The last thing we needed right now was for our father to walk in and see his precious superheroes all terrified of a small rodent.

"Diego, do you have any knives on you?" Luther asked, his leader voice coming out.

"Always. Do you want me to kill it?" He asked, reaching into his blazer pocket and unsheathing a knife.

"Ew! No! Its guts will go everywhere!" Allison cried, now standing on her chair, as if that would remove her any more from the situation.

"We can’t just let it run around. We have to get rid of it!" I said, crawling up on to the table with Klaus and Five.

We all considered this for a second, each waiting for someone else to come up with a better idea.

Then suddenly, Vanya’s small voice came from her chair, "don’t kill it. I’ll catch it." 

We paused. Vanya was going to willingly sacrifice herself to catch this beast? Out of all of us, she seemed the most unlikely. And it seemed as though Luther was just about to voice these thoughts when the rat scurried past us once again and Vanya swiftly jumped out of her seat and caught it in her bare hands.  
We all gaped at her as she examined it carefully. Diego and I shared a look of disbelief and around us, the others did the same. No-one could believe what had just happened.

"It’s a mouse," Vanya stated out of nowhere.

"Uh… What?" Asked Luther.

Vanya then held the grey mouse in the palm of her hands and carefully presented it to us all, "it’s not a rat. It’s just a mouse."

She then proceeded to sit down on the floor of the library and start playing with it.  
Ben was the first of us to move, carefully sitting next to Vanya and petting the mouse with her.  
Klaus was the next, as he leapt from the table and joined them. He began to use the very same pen that he attempted to utilise as a weapon, as an obstacle for the mouse and the three squealed in delight as the mouse began to jump over it.

Still sitting on the table, I wanted nothing more to do with the mouse, but Vanya caught my gaze, "Y/N, it won’t hurt you. Just come pet it once."

Her voice was so soft and gentle and her eyes so pleading that I couldn’t resist. Despite the shaking of the head from Diego that told me I shouldn’t go near the beast, I hesitantly made my way over.  
I kneeled down next to them and Vanya gave me her heart-melting smile. I pushed my way in between Klaus and Vanya and reached out to pet the mouse, which prompted a round of applause from Klaus and Ben.  
Five glanced up at this and with some prodding from us, made his way over as well.  
We all sat in a circle, bar Luther, Diego and Allison, playing with the mouse. Klaus produced some scraps from his breakfast, that he had stuffed in his pocket for a snack, and we feed it the mouse.  
"We should name it," I said.

"How about mousey?" Klaus suggested.

"That’s lame, it needs an exciting name." Five deadpanned back.

"How about Delores?" Ben asked, "like that Stephen King book you were reading to us, Five?"

Five mulled this over then nodded his head in approval, "Delores. I like it."

Suddenly, Pogo came through the doors of the library, he began to make his way to our study table but paused when he saw us sitting on the ground.

"What are you doing on the floor, children?" He questioned in a confused tone.

"There was a mouse, but Vanya caught it," Allison spoke up from her chair, her legs still curled up underneath her.

"Can we keep it?" Vanya asked, pleadingly.

Pogo smiled at her, "while you did a very excellent job of catching it, Miss Vanya, we must return the mouse to its home outside."

He came over and picked up the mouse from the middle of our circle and we all frowned as we said our goodbyes.  
We soon went back to our studies, but a small smile lingered on Vanya’s face as she was the hero of that day.

Unfortunately, our training sessions were never like this. 

At 12:30 pm we concluded with our studies and would rush downstairs for a quick lunch. This was a much more informal meal as our father never attended, he would usually be preparing our training. However, out of habit, our meals still stayed silent.

At 1 pm, our training would commence. Individual training was 2 and a half hours, where we would be forced to use our powers over and over again, with the intent to control and advance them.  
As I mentioned before, we weren’t encouraged to discuss training amongst each other. It was believed by our father that if we kept our training secret it would spike jealousy between us and thus give us more reasons to remain distant from each other. 

He never wanted us to be a family, he wanted a team - a group of children that would one day save the world.

Group sessions were also a vital part of our training. From 3 pm to 5:30 pm, we were required to participate in group training. Vanya was also around for our group training, but she played a much more passive role as our father’s assistant. She would carry around a clipboard as well as a whistle she wore around her neck. That whistle always will be the worst noise to me. Even to this day, the sound of a whistle brings back a painful feeling of never being good enough. 

One of the most unusual forms of our training would be our races up the colossal amount of stairs. We would all huddle in a group at the bottom of the staircase (a horrible winding, metal one) and at the top, our father and Vanya would look down upon us.  
At the sound of the whistle, we were off. Luther and Diego would immediately push us out of the way to get ahead, unafraid to play dirty. As in all their competitions, they’d be neck and neck. They were so evenly matched that it only caused further frustrations for them both - each eager to come out on top. Luther wanted to remain Number One and Diego wanted to prove he was more than his number would suggest. 

During one of our first races, Diego shoved Five out of the way to advance on Luther. Instead of instant retaliation, Five fell to the back of the crowd. He then waited until Diego had finally made it to the lead that he teleported to first place.

"That’s not fair, Five’s cheating!" Diego cried, faltering in his running.

"He’s adapting." Our father simply replied.

But the sparring was the most unpleasant of our training. The physical fights always brought out the worst in all of us. Our pairings seemed to be randomly selected each session, but deep down I think we all eventually came to the realisation that our father had carefully selected them each day, based on who he thought would bring out the best (or worst) in each other.  
The majority of our spars lead to blood being spilt. Our father would simply brush this off as a casualty of being a superhero.

"Are you going to cry over a paper cut on your missions, Number Eight?" He yelled at me after I had received a cut from one of Diego’s knives.

On several occasions, the Horror would rip out of Ben during a fight and would send whoever he had been sparring to the infirmary. He would then refuse to leave whoever it was bedside until they woke up and he could give them a proper apology.  
We all understood he didn’t have entire control over the Horror, and in the sparring moments the Horror would sometimes get confused and come out, thinking that it was time to properly fight. Of course, we accepted his apology immediately, often with a remark to not worry himself so much next time.

My powers came in handy during our spars. It was easy enough to make my opponent beat themselves up while I stood to the side puppeteering them. However, life could never make itself easy, and often I was forced to withhold from using my powers in our fights to make sure I was evenly matched with the others. Instead, I was only permitted to use them rarely and only if I thought necessary. 

None of my siblings liked our training, but our group training even less. To be pitted against each other day after day; only to be reminded that we must work as a team, was emotionally draining to no extent. The words of my father still ring in my ears to this day, a quote he would say, without fail, every day, "you are only as strong as your weakest link."  
It was one thing to grow up with very little social interaction outside of our family, but to then be constantly compared to each other was just another drop in our ocean of trauma.

At 5:30 pm, our day was almost finished. We were given 30 minutes to wash up from the day - if we had our sparring sessions this often meant cleaning the blood off of ourselves. We would then make our way downstairs for dinner at 6 pm. Dinner was the same affair as breakfast, silence amongst us all except for the recorded lecture droning on in the background.

After dinner, we were given 'wind-down' time, in which we were expected to shower, brush our teeth and get changed into our pyjamas, and with the rest of the time, we were expected to either catch up on any work that we had failed to complete during our schooling hours or we could entertain ourselves in our own rooms.

Of course, that never stayed true. During these hours we would all rush to get ready for bed as quickly as possible and then we would proceed to sneak into each other’s rooms. Five was the master of this as all he had to do was teleport from his room to the others’. Luckily, it was during this time that our father would retire to his study and we were under Mom’s care, who would turn a blind eye to these activities.  
On the rare days when we all got along, we would all gather in Allison’s room, which was the largest of all ours. We would sit and talk for hours, playing games we had made up or read about in books. Us girls would also paint each other’s nails with the polish we 'borrowed' from Mom, we’d try to convince the boys to let us paint their nails as well but only Klaus and occasionally Ben would allow us to do so.

It was lights out at 9:30 pm and Mom would come to all our rooms to remind us and switch off the lights for us.  
One particular night we begged Mom to let us say goodnight to our father. Ben had described one of his books in which the father had put his children to sleep and tucked them in. We were eager to test this, to see if our father would do the same. Perhaps he would sit on the edge of our beds and tell us what a good job we did that day, or even just say "sleep well". 

When Mom opened up the doors to his study after announcing we wanted to say goodnight, we all stood huddled together with our backs as straight as possible. However, our father didn’t even spare us a glance. Rather, we got a stony silence as he continued to write in his notebook.

I only remember one moment that came close to our father tucking us in. It was late at night and I was meant to be sleeping, but Ben had shown me a book he just finished reading and I was eager to finish it as well so we could talk about it. So I huddled under my covers with a flashlight I stole from Luther and the book in my hands. Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside my door. I hurried to switch off the flashlight and throw both it and the book down the side of my bed out of sight.  
The footsteps stopped outside my door and I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep. My door opened and then my father walked in, his heavy footsteps giving him away. I didn’t dare move in case I was reprimanded. 

He sat on the edge of my bed and my heart swelled.  
Was he coming to tuck me in? Did he secretly do this each night? Maybe he was just shy about showing his feelings and didn’t want us to be awake when he said the words "I love you". 

None of that happened.

I had let my childish naivety take over me. Instead of a heartfelt goodnight, I felt the sensation of several stickers being stuck to my head. Then my father left without a word. As I heard the door close and his footsteps retreat, I opened my eyes to see that he had stuck wires to my head.  
My heart sunk.  
He was doing sleep studies on us. Nights were supposed to be the moments we escaped him and ran away to our dreamland where we were a real family. But he had taken too that away from us. That night as I cried myself to sleep, I came to the realisation that in our father’s eyes we were nothing but experiments.


	3. Our First Mission

"Let’s play a prank on someone," Klaus whispered to Ben and I as we sat with our heads bowed together in group study.

"On who?" Ben and I asked simultaneously.

"I dunno," Klaus shrugged.

"Well, what type of prank were you thinking of?" I asked.

"Dunno," Klaus said again.

"Have you thought of anything?" Ben asked with a baffled look on his face.

"Nope, that’s the job for you two." 

I rolled my eyes at this and shared a look with Ben. Klaus always wanted to wind up our siblings but never had any ideas of how to execute it.  
The others sat around us at our circular study table, focusing on their work and not paying us any attention.

"We could make fart noises whenever Luther tries to talk?" I suggested, thinking of the first thing that came to my head.

"Come on, Y/N-" Ben started but was quickly interrupted by Klaus.

"That’s the best idea ever!" He whisper-shouted, earning the disgruntled looks of our siblings, who were immersed in their work.

"What are you three doing over there?" Luther asked.

I open my mouth to respond but Klaus beats me to it. He put his hands to his mouth and made a loud fart noise that echos throughout the library. Ben and I both put our heads down, trying to fight the giggles that rise up our throats.

"What? Stop that," Luther demanded and Klaus once again made a fart noise.

Our giggles grow louder and this just further encourages Klaus. The others watched on, unimpressed by our childish antics, but Vanya glanced up with a small smile on her face that she was trying to fight back.

Klaus continued making the fart noises as Luther began to get more and more riled up. 

"Stop it! Get back to your work!"

"Pfft!" 

"I’m serious, Four. Stop being so immature!"

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

Ben and my’s giggles soon turned into full belly-laughter as Luther began to get red in the face. Our laughs bounced off the walls, mixing in with Luther’s yelling and Klaus’ fart noises. Klaus’ smile was so wide it looked as though his face was going to split in half.

"Number Four-"

Luther’s next words were cut off by the sound of an obnoxiously loud alarm blaring throughout the library. Our heads all shot up simultaneously. We knew that noise, it was the mission alarm, and this wasn’t a drill. Our first mission was officially happening.

We jumped from our seats and bolted to our bedrooms, abandoning all our work and Vanya. We raced to our rooms to grab our masks and supplies.  
My mask sat on top of my dresser, waiting for this very day when our first mission would come about. I slipped it on and raced out to the hallway to wait for the others.

The Academy was utter chaos, not everyone had been as prepared as I was. 

"How will the Umbrella Academy ever become an effective crime deterrent if we can’t even leave the house on time for missions?" Our father yelled as he walked down the hallway. 

Five teleported next to me with a smirk on his face, "you ready, Y/N?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," I replied back.

Diego ran past us yelling out, "I can’t find my knives!"

Mom quickly arrived with a case in her hands and followed Diego into his room.

"They needed cleaning, dear," we could hear her sweet voice drifting down the hall.

Luther was out next, briskly walking to stand next to Five and I in the corridor. While Five and I both were slouched and leaning against the wall, Luther stood with his back straight and eyes ahead.

Ben wandered out next and came to stand next to me. The mask on his face was crooked and I reached over with a smile to fix it, "there you go, Benny boy."

"I can’t find my mask!" Allison cried out.

"Why do I have two masks?" Klaus also cried out at the same time.

Our father stood in the hall with a sour look on his face at the disarray of the Umbrella Academy’s preparedness - or rather lack of preparedness. I averted my gaze to the ground to avoid his stern look as he surveyed the scene. 

Allison and Klaus quickly came out of their respective rooms and Klaus handed Allison her mask which had somehow ended up in his bedside drawers.  
Diego was the last to come out as Mom lead him with her arm around his shoulders.

Upon our father’s nod, we began to walk out the door and pile into the car, with Vanya trailing behind us.  
All of us, except Luther, were squashed into the back seats and I glanced out the window to see Mom and Pogo standing on the front steps, waving at us. I waved back with a small smile on my face and on either side of me, Klaus and Diego did the same.

On the way to our mission, our father briefed us on what to expect. It was a bank robbery, an unknown amount of men had stormed in and taken all the tellers and customers hostage. We were expected to incapacitate the robbers in whatever way possible - and we all understood what we was insinuating.  
Our father also told us to remain calm inside the bank, not for fear that we might worry ourselves but so we didn’t "embarrass the name of the Umbrella Academy."

Upon reaching the bank, it was go-time. Our father parked the car out the back and we clambered out. At Luther's word, we split off into groups and snuck in through various entrances to ensure we got the drop on them. Luther clambered on to the roof with the directions to carefully survey the scene first.  
Meanwhile, Diego, Allison and Klaus snuck in through the back entrance. I stayed back and waited with Five and Ben until the others had gone inside and then we made our way in, slipping through the side door that was labelled 'employees only'.  
The usual banter between everyone had disappeared and while making our way into the main section of the bank where the hostages were being held, the only noises around us were the soft sounds of our breaths. 

No-one wanted to admit it, but we were scared.

Once we reached the main part of the bank we crouched down behind the counters reserved for the tellers. I poked my head out carefully and finally got a glimpse of what we were dealing with. At least 4 men were stalking around the bank, all holding guns. Two of the men were threatening the hostages into being quiet, who were all bound and gagged with duct tape. Another one of the men was standing guard in front of the main entrance, ensuring no-one came in or left.  
The last of the men appeared to be the leader. He walked around keeping track of everyone while yelling into a walkie-talkie.  
The doors to the vault were also closed but the locks showed signs of forced entry, there were definitely more people inside.  
As I continued to look over the scene, I finally spotted the others.  
Diego’s head was peeking out from behind a wall, where he was hiding with Allison and Klaus. He caught my gaze and gave me a questioning look, 'you ready?'

I ducked my head down and turned to Ben and Five, silently asking them the same question. Upon their nods, I popped my head back up and gave Diego the thumbs-up. Next to me, Five and Ben slowly lifted their heads back the counter and we watched with bated breaths as Allison skipped out from behind the wall. She held a nonchalant attitude about her, to an outsider it would have seemed as though she was making her way down the street rather than to talk to the leader of a heist.

"Hey, get back with the others." The leader demanded as he spotted her, pointing at the hostages huddled behind the counter.

"I heard a rumour," Allison said, sweetly.

"What? What did you say?"

"I heard a rumour," she began, leaning in close as if telling a secret, "that you shot your friend in the foot."

Then without a moment's hesitation, the man pulled the trigger of his gun, shooting his accomplish in the foot.

Screams rang out throughout the bank and we launched from our positions and into action, the bank had instantly fallen into chaos and all the robbers suddenly were on edge; guns drawn and eyes shifting as they looked for the children in school uniforms.

I used the chaos to my advantage to finally slip out from behind the counter and run to the man that was guarding the front entrance, he was tall and burly and could easily snap me in half with no effort, but I had my powers.

"Hey!" I shouted, and waved at him, successfully gaining his attention.

"Don’t play games with me, I’m not past shooting a kid!" He yelled out, levelling his gun towards me.

My heart race picked up and I was surprised it didn’t burst out of my chest with how had it was beating. I managed to keep my face a sweet smile, but on the inside, I wanted nothing more than to drop to the floor and beg him not to shoot. 

In the grand scheme of things I knew in a fight, I would come out on top. I had not only my training but also my powers which would easily mean I could take on this man. But that doesn’t mean the fear went away. I was terrified. I was only 13 years old and I was expected to take down this group of criminals (something, not even the police could do) with only my other 13-year-old siblings as backup.  
But I pushed all this to the back of my mind as I always did with any of my doubts about the capabilities of the Umbrella Academy.

Instead, I lifted my hand and used my powers to force him to drop his gun. It fell from his hands and hit the floor with a loud bang. For a second my heart stopped as I feared I might have caused it to accidentally go off, but nothing happened. He had left the safety of the gun on.  
I silently berated myself. It was a reckless mistake on my part and one that could have hurt myself or others.

"What the fuck?" The guy cried out as his right hand began to curl itself into a fist.

"Watch out, this is gonna hurt," I said as I used my powers to make the guy punch himself in his face with all his strength. He instantly dropped to the ground, unconscious.

I turned back and surveyed the scene. My siblings were all working independently to help combat these guys and they were doing great so far. 

I hopped out of the way of the broken glass raining from the ceiling as Luther jumped down on to another one of the men, using his super strength to the pick him up and launch him out of the window.

"Nice of you to finally join us!" I shouted at him to be heard over the sounds around us.

"Had to make my grand entrance," he smirked.

Diego ran past us launching two knives into the air and curving them so they hit the shoulders of one of the men, shouting "guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives!"

I beamed proudly at him and we shared a quick glance of glee. All his childhood Diego had struggled with a stutter and he was terrified that it would come out on one of the missions and embarrass him. 

_I stumbled across his room one day where Diego had been standing in front of the mirror, practising that same line over and over again. I stood behind his doorframe, peeking out from behind it until he caught a glimpse of my in the mirror._

_"Y/N!" He called out, a look of anger on his face._

_"Don’t be mad!" I begged, stepping into his room and perching myself on his bed, "I was just watching, you’re doing really good!"_

_"You think so?" He asked shyly, "Luther laughed at me the other day about it."_

_"Luther’s dumb, don’t worry about him. He probably is out kissing Dad’s butt right now," I replied._

_That brought a smile to Diego’s face and he began to laugh as he sat next to me on his bed._

_"I just don’t wanna mess up on the field," he said, sobering up._

_I grabbed his hands and looked into his eyes, "and you’re not going to. When our first mission comes around you are gonna go out there and say that line like a crime-fighting, badass superhero."_

A shout pulled me back into reality and as I looked over to see the man that I had knocked out was conscious once again and had Klaus as a hostage. With one hand was holding a gun to Klaus’ head and the other was wrapped around his torso, ensuring he couldn’t escape.  
While Klaus has powers, they had proven to be ineffective during missions and instead he was often placed on lookout duty. But like me, he must have gotten distracted by the commotion around us and let his guard down.

The rest of our siblings didn’t hear his shout and were too busy still fighting off the men, I was on my own. But it was as if I was frozen into place. My heart began beating faster than it ever had and my head was pounding. No matter how much my mind screamed at me to move, to do something - anything. I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, my eyes locked on the gun that was shoved roughly against Klaus’ temple.

"Y/N!" Klaus cried out, terror laced in his voice.

That was all I needed as I launched back into reality, and I saw red. Racing forward and using my powers I grabbed the mans arm that was holding the gun and forced it upwards so he was pointing the gun at his chin. Without any hesitation, I forced his finger to pull the trigger.

The shot rang throughout the bank, bouncing off the walls, echoing in my ears. The man dropped to the ground heavily, taking Klaus with him. Klaus yelled as he was dragged down, the man’s heavy weight on slumped over on top of him meaning he couldn’t escape from his grip.

I sprinted over as quickly as I could and dropped to the ground next to them. The man’s blood was pooling on the ground around us, drenching my knees as I knelt in it. I paid no attention to it as I reached over and pushed with all my might to shove the dead weight off of Klaus. He crawled out and the blood smeared on the front of his uniform. I grabbed Klaus’ arms and pulled him up from the dead man’s grasp. Once he was free we stumbled backwards, catching each other before we fell to the ground again.  
I quickly averted my gaze to Klaus and began to check over him for any injuries, my hands tightly gripped his arms. However, as I was looking over him, I noticed something that made me freeze in place.  
The wall behind Klaus was covered in the brains and blood. They had splattered everywhere and were dripping down onto the floor; each time making a horrible slopping noise that made my stomach churn, my breakfast from the morning threatening to make a reappearance.

It suddenly hit me - I did this.

It was my first kill. At just 13 years old, I had become a murderer. The rational part of my mind realised that it had to be done, not only to as my duty but also to save Klaus. But the rational part of my mind wasn’t one that I was paying attention to.  
At that moment the only thought running through my head was 'murderer'. Over and over again as some kind of sick chant. I couldn’t escape it. All the other noises from the bank were practically silent as the only thing I could hear was a rushing in my ears and the chanting, getting louder and louder.

'Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.'

I felt two hands grab one of my own and I allowed myself to be pulled away from the scene by Klaus. 

"It’s okay," he muttered reassuringly, only loud enough for the two of us to hear, his hand coming up to rub soothingly at my back.

I nodded my head and forced myself to look up to him, "are you okay?"

It had been selfish of me. I was so wrapped up in my own inner turmoil that I hadn’t even asked Klaus if he was alright yet. Klaus had almost been shot and I had only cared about myself and my stupid worries.

He grinned at me widely, "me? Never better. Nothing like a near-death experience to get the blood pumping!"

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. It was a borderline hysterical laugh, but I was far past caring. Klaus patted my back and I knew he was happy that I was laughing. He never liked to dwell on those things, he simply wanted to move on and pretend it never happened - the opposite of how I handled things.

Klaus led me over to where the rest of my siblings were standing, surrounding the leader who was stood up on the counter, frantically pointing a gun at all of us. My heart leapt at the sight of the gun but I forced myself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"Get back, you freaks," He yelled.

"Hey, be careful up there, buddy," Diego said.

"Yeah, wouldn’t want you to get hurt," I added.

"Or what?" Five questioned, as he teleported to be sitting cross-legged on the counter.

The man pulled the trigger and the shots fired loudly from his gun. I felt myself wince at the sound but Five merely disappeared in a flash of light, managing to quickly replace the gun with a stapler and teleport to the other side of the counter in the blink of an eye. 

The guy attempted to shoot him again but only succeeded in clicking the stapler.

"Oh! That’s one badass stapler!" Five responded wittily, before using that very stapler to render the man unconscious. The man dropped from the counter on to the floor below and Five jumped down after him. We walked over to see Five with the same roll of duct tape that the men had used on the hostages, except this time it was being used to restrain the unconscious man.

"The vaults been broken into," I said, remembering my earlier observation of the forced entry, "I’m not sure how many people are in there but they're trapped for now."

Our eyes all fell to Ben, who cast his gaze to the floor and sighed heavily.

"Do I really have to do this?" He questioned quietly.

My heart hurt for him. If I thought my kill was bad, the one’s inflicted by the Horror was a thousand times worse. Owning the Horror was a fate no one deserved and least of all Ben, who’s heart was so big and full of innocence.

"Come on, Ben, there’s more in the vault," Luther said, always the leader.

With a resigned sign, Ben opened the door to the vault, "I didn’t sign up for this."

Before the Horror could truly unleash on the men inside the vault, my siblings and I quickly ushered the hostages out of the bank and on to the street. We didn’t want them to witness what was about to happen not only for their own sakes - but also Ben’s.

We stood around the door to the vault with looks of sadness on our faces as the silhouette of the Horror tore apart the men inside. Some of the bodies flew up and hit the frosted windows, their blood a bright red against the light background.  
Then almost as soon as it had begun, the sounds inside stopped and Ben opened the door, drenched in blood that was not his own. 

"Can we go home now?" He asked in a small, shaky voice.

"Of course," I replied instantly, moving towards Ben. 

Allison followed behind me as we both picked up our scarves that were to be worn later and proceeded to use them to clean up Ben’s face. Allison reached over and took off his domino mask and started to clean it. I kept cleaning Ben’s face, who now had tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. I gently bumped Allison’s shoulder with my own and we both shuffled so he was hidden from the view of our other siblings and he finally let a few stray tears stream down his face. 

"It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay," I whispered quietly to Ben, repeating the words Klaus had said to me only minutes ago.

Allison and I quickly finished our work, it was sloppy and splatters of blood still stained Ben’s face and uniform but it was better than before. 

"Okay, when we go out there everyone needs to look professional," Luther stated, his gaze lingering on Klaus.

"Hey, 'professional' is my middle name," Klaus retorted, holding his hands up in surrender.

Luther rolled his eyes and began walking towards the main entrance, gesturing us to follow. We promptly made our way outside to a sea of people. The hostages stood to the side, some still crying and sobbing loudly at the ordeal. Police barricades were everywhere and helicopters flew overhead. Meanwhile, reporters began to fire off their questions, their cameras clicking loudly and flashing brightly.

We stood on the steps in a line according to our numbers. Luther stood tall, waving to the reporters. Diego was next to him, proudly holding one of his knives to his chest, while Allison (who had been preparing endlessly for this moment) posed next to him, a bright smile on her face.  
Klaus was leaning against Five, who was smiling proudly to the crowd. Ben was next in line and he stood with a carefully constructed blank look on his face.  
Meanwhile, I stood at the end of the line on Ben’s other side, our shoulders pressed reassuringly against each other and I smiled a sweet smile to the crowd as instructed.

As our father made his way over to us to address the crowd and answer the questions that we were forbidden from answering, we slipped on our coats and scarves. Both Allison’s and mine were stained with blood and I quickly tucked mine into my coat to hide it from the crowd. 

"Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us, gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted seven such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy," he announced, finally presenting us to the world after so many years of hiding us away.

The reporters swarmed our father with questions and I tuned out the rest of the world and instead secluded to the safety of my own mind. I made sure to keep a slight smile on my face for the reporters, but otherwise, I wanted nothing more to do with this mission.

After a while, we were finally escorted away by our father and back into the car that brought us here. The ride home was silent, our father didn’t comment on the mission and we had yet to figure out if that was a good or bad thing.  
But it didn’t matter to me, I was grateful for the silence as it let me sort out all the thoughts that ran around in my head. The most prominent of them being 'murderer'. The same chanting from before had come back even louder. My head drummed as the chants began to overcloud any other thoughts I might have had. But the chanting was right. I had killed that man. I was a murderer.

Suddenly, I felt a hand land on top of mine, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Don’t give him a reaction," Five muttered next to me.

I turned to him and gave him a questioning look. What did he mean by that? He slightly nodded his head up towards our father, who was peering at us from the rear-vision mirror.

I quickly dropped my head down and looked at my lap, busying myself by picking the blood out from my fingernails. I knew I was going to get in trouble.

The ride home then became unbearably long. The silence was now uncomfortably loud. And the once reassuring presence of my siblings pressed against me was suffocating.  
As we finally reached the Academy I let out a deep breath, grateful to be home. I couldn’t wait to escape the car, and more urgently - my father. All I wanted was to run to my room and cry, but I couldn’t let my father know that.

As we walked inside the others lingered in the entry, waiting for our father’s instructions. 

"Well?" He asked, looking at them with an eyebrow raised, "go clean up."

We began to dispense off towards our rooms for a change of clothes, and in some of our cases, to clean off the blood that had now dried itself on to our skin.

"Number Eight. Remain behind."

My stomach dropped and I stopped walking, I knew what was coming. No matter how much I tried to avoid it, my father wouldn’t allow it. I remained in the entry with my father and as Five walked past he gave me a look, reminding me of our conversation in the car.

My father towered over me and I tried my hardest not to cower in his intimidating presence. He remained silent for a few moments, simply staring at me until he finally spoke.

"It is to my understanding that you nearly let Number Four get shot, is that correct?" 

I stayed silent, we both already knew the answer.

"Answer me, Number Eight," he demanded.

"Yes," I said, my voice coming out no more than a whisper for fear that I would start crying.

He glared at me with that cold stare, "speak up!"

"Yes!" I tried to say louder, but the lump in my throat made the world strangled and come out as a shout.

"You were irresponsible, Number Eight. You let your emotions get the best of you and in doing so nearly got your brother killed - on your first mission, nonetheless."

I stared at the floor, the tears in my eyes blurred my vision but I didn’t dare let them fall, Five’s reminded stayed strong in my mind.

"What good are you to the Umbrella Academy if you cannot even harness your emotions?" He questioned me, "You must learn to detach yourself from such silly worries, and for that, you will be punished Number Eight."

"No! Please-" 

"None of that! You must learn to not allow your emotions to overcome you. You will spend one night in the Chamber." He stated, grabbing my upper arm and leading me down the stairs.

"Please, no! I’ll do better! I promise!" I begged. 

But my pleas fell on deaf ears as my father lead me down to our basement and proceeded to lock me in what was deemed the 'Chamber'. It was a single room that strongly resembled a prison cell, with one bed and a toilet. The walls were soundproof and the door was strong enough to withhold even Luther’s strength. This was usually the designated spot for my punishments, as often the times I got in trouble was for being too emotional. My father had believed that by locking me in this room alone it would detach me further from my family and cause me to take control of my emotions.

As the door shut with a clang and I watched my father walk away through the small glass pane, I finally let the tears fall down my face. That night I cried myself to sleep. I cried for the man I killed, and his potential family that would no longer have a son or a brother or a father. I cried for Ben and the Horror that resides within him. I cried for Klaus and the fact that I had nearly let him be killed today.  
But mostly, I cried for my father and the wish for one who would actually care for me.

The first mission did not go as expected. We envisioned it to be thrilling, and action-packed. What we didn’t expect was the horror that came with it. We didn’t expect the anxiety as we waited in our positions. Or the lingering feeling of dread whenever our back was turned to one of the criminals. We didn’t expect there to be moments where we froze. Or ones where we had to look death in the eyes.

We were only children. It’s still so incomprehensible to me, to this day, as to why anyone saw us as superheroes. We were just kids.

At 13 years old we had been introduced to the world as the Umbrella Academy.

At just 13 years old we had the literal weight of the world, resting on our shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a hard one to write, especially the ending. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what punishment Reggie would give the reader.
> 
> Overall, I decided that the reader could tend to be a bit overemotional (at least in Reggie's eyes which is just showing any emotion lol) and they would be locked in that cell as a way for them to become emotionless.
> 
> Which I think would probably have the opposite effect and will definitely fuck the reader up in the future, which we will see in later chapters.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed and any comments you leave behind I will absolutely reply to!! Love you all xx


	4. The Cliques

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the story!! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, it means so much to me :)

Of course, just as with any family there were siblings who were closer to each other and siblings who weren’t as close to each other. Although our family was big enough and there were so many dynamics, that we simply referred to them as cliques. 

There were two main cliques, the first of which was the 'higher numbers', as they dubbed themselves. Numbers 1, 2 and 3 who would believe that they all were 'older' than us and thus in charge. Obviously, we had all been born at the same time, and there really was no telling of who was older and who was younger. And even if we did know, the amounts of difference between our ages would ultimately be down to the minutes.  
When that group was together, they were unbearable. On their own they were fine enough; I got along relatively well with all of them separately. But whenever they fell into that clique, they fell into the headspace that they were better than us. 

Because of this, they often believed that the responsibility fell to them to tell us off if our father wasn’t around. It was an occurrence that happened often enough that we all recognised the pattern. It was a triad combination that would begin with Luther who would often demand answers, then Diego who would be ruthless in his attacks; and finally Allison, who would deliver the final blow.

It was 'wind-down' time and Five, Ben, Vanya and I had snuck into Klaus' room, eager to get away from the other three. It had been a particularly rough day with our group training, the 'higher numbers' had been particularly brutal in our sparring and left the rest of us battered and bruised. All we wanted to do was have something to take our minds off of the ache of our bodies. 

I suggested we sneak out and go get doughnuts from our favourite spot, Griddy’s Doughnuts. Griddy’s was a diner that we frequented on our nights out, it was cheap, close to home and most importantly, the waitress there never questioned why there were a bunch of children in school uniforms late at night. 

Klaus, Ben and Five had immediately jumped onto the idea. Vanya, however, was more hesitant in accepting the offer.

"Come on, Vanny. We’ll just go to Griddy’s and come right back," Klaus promised in a whisper, as we sat huddled on his bed. 

"You always say that but then we end up doing something else and not getting home until late," Vanya whispered back.

Klaus looked to the rest of us and we shrugged our shoulders, she had a point. Usually, on those nights, we would sneak out with the promise of being back in an hour, but one hour would fall into the next and eventually, we would be wandering the streets at 3 am, laughing and running around like the children we longed to be.

"I’ll make sure we come straight home," Ben interjects, looking at Vanya.

Her eyes fell to the bedsheet as she played with a loose thread, "I don’t know…"

"Vee, it’ll be fine. Dad’s never caught us and tonight will be no different," I reached over and grabbed her hand, bending my head down to catch her eyes in what I hoped was a reassuring glance.

Vanya didn’t respond and Klaus leaned back on the wall with a heavy sigh. I looked around at the others, at a loss for what to do but no one answered. I forcefully caught Five’s gaze and jerked my head towards Vanya, 'your turn' I thought to myself.

Five rolled his eyes and leaned forwards, "Vanya, please come. For me?" 

Vanya finally looked shyly up at Five and nodded. She was a sucker for Five, especially when he used that special tone of voice and made her feel as though she was the most important person in the room - which to him, she probably was.

Ben, Klaus and I shared a mockingly offended look over their heads and Klaus brought his hand up to his heart.

"So you say yes to Five, but not to me? Vanny, I’m wounded," he cried, his voice bouncing around the room loudly.

Our eyes all widened as we hurried to shush him. Ben jumped over and slapped his hand over Klaus’ mouth and we all froze. I prayed that no one heard us, but it was for nothing because less than 10 seconds later the door opened to reveal Luther, Diego and Allison.

We clambered to separate from our huddle and spaced ourselves out on the bed in an attempt to not look suspicious, but it just gave the opposite effect.

"What are you all doing?" Luther questioned as they stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.

"Nothing, what are you doing?" I retorted back in a singsong voice, standing up to face them.

"Wrong answer, try again, Y/N," Luther demanded, crossing his arms across his chest. While doing this he also took a step forward, forcing me to take a step back. In doing so, my legs hit the back of the bed frame and I fell back onto the bed. 

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Five asked, quickly jumping to my defence.

Luther scoffed, "because we know you’re all up to something, we could hear you planning."

"So you were eavesdropping on us?" Ben asked.

The three shuffled in place, refusing to answer the question. It was obvious that they had been trying to listen in on our conversation, and it wasn’t hard to miss the jealous look that was behind their eyes. However, Diego then took it upon himself to jump into the mix. While Luther would usually just try and use his status as 'leader' to get answers out of us, Diego wouldn’t hold back on the insults, he turns ruthless and will say whatever he can to get his point across. Usually, he doesn’t mean it, but he knows just where to hit to hurt us the most. It’s an unfortunate flaw of Diego’s that has remained with him into adulthood.

"You’re all probably just trying to make Vanya feel like she’s part of the family, even though she’s obviously not."

"Diego!" I cried out, indignantly.

But he wasn’t done.

"She’s just a freak who accidentally got adopted by Dad. And you’re all pathetic idiots for trying to make her feel better," Diego said, stepping forwards so he was now at the front of the group.

"That’s enough, Diego," I said, standing back up to face off with him.

Behind me, the other’s began to voice their protests as well. 

"That’s not true!" Klaus cried out. 

Meanwhile, Ben had grabbed Vanya’s hands and was reassuringly shaking his head at her to convey that Diego’s words were false.

Five teleported from sitting on the bed to standing next to me in the blink of an eye. Then, suddenly, he reached out and shoved Diego back. Diego, not expecting it, stumbled a few steps back before gaining his footing again.

"Why don’t you go cry to Mommy about it then?" Five hissed.

Diego made a move to launch towards Five but Allison beat him to it, stepping to the front of the pack and facing us all.

"You’re all just jealous that we beat you today in training," she began, "you can’t handle knowing that you’re less than us so you all crowd to Vanya to make yourselves feel better."

And there it was, Allison’s final blow. 

With that, the three stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind them. A silence encompassed the room as we all sat in shock at their words.

Slowly, I turned and faced the others. Vanya had silent tears streaming down her face as Ben held on to her hand so tightly it looked as though it was bordering on painful.  
Klaus remained leaning against the wall, his face a look of shock as he looked at the door where they had just left. Next to me, Five’s hands had curled up into fists and he too remained looking at the door, but with a look of pure anger.

"Vee," I started, breaking the tense silence, "none of what they said is true."

At this, her sobs began to ring through the air, loud and heavy. I felt my own eyes well up with tears as she buried her face into her hands, trying to muffle the sound.

"I-It’s true though," she said, her voice catching on the words as the sobs tore out of her throat, "He- D-Dad did accidentally ad-adopt me."

"Hey, no no no no," Klaus said, finally snapping out of his shocked state. He turned on the bed so he was now facing Vanya and gathered her in his arms.

"They’re just being assholes, Vanny, they’re bitter because they weren’t invited," Ben said, rubbing her back soothingly.

Five hadn’t moved from his spot, his eyes still staring unblinkingly at the doorway and his fists clenching and unclenching. "Five," I muttered as I placed my hand on his arm, "it’s not worth it.

He turned towards me, his anger now redirected at a new target.

"Of course it is. Look at what they did to her," he spat. I knew his anger wasn’t truly directed at me, he just needed someone to take it out on, but it still stung a little to have your brother look at you with such fury in his eyes.

"I know, but she needs you now and you can’t help her if you’re being punished by Dad for making a ruckus this late at night," I told him.

That seemed to pull him out of whatever rage he was about to spiral into and as he looked over my shoulder at Vanya his gaze softened. He shrugged my hand off his arm and carefully made his way over to her.

Once he reached the bed, he crawled up next to Vanya and pulled her out of Klaus’ arms and into his own. She immediately latched on to him and curled her arms around his neck, her sobs had softened into cries and she wept into his shoulder. Five looked over at the rest of us and gestured with his head to the direction of his bedroom, upon our nods he blinked out of Klaus’ bedroom and to his own, taking Vanya with him.

I looked over at Klaus and Ben to see them already looking at me.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" Ben asked.

I took a deep breath in and grimaced, "yeah, I just feel bad for Vanya. She didn’t even want to go out and she was the one that got attacked the worst."

Ben nodded and next to him Klaus sighed, "they’re such dicks. I can’t stand it when they’re together."

Ben and I hummed our agreements. We fell back into an uncomfortable silence as the mood had taken an unexpected turn. 

I stood up from the bed, making the first move, the rustling of the bedsheets unnaturally loud.

"I think I’m just going to go to bed, I don’t really feel like going out anymore," I said.

"Me too," Ben chimed in also standing up and we began to make our way to the door.

Klaus’ face fell in disappointment, but it quickly smoothed over into indifference, "alright."

I knew that he loved these nights out more than any of us and that he couldn’t help being at least a little disappointed by not going, despite what had just happened. I walked back over to Klaus’ bed and leaned down, hugging him tightly. He melted into my embrace and I pulled back, rubbing his arms soothingly.

"We’ll go out soon, I promise," I said.

Klaus smiled at that and reached out ruffling my hair, "sounds like a plan."

I walked back to the door and with Ben, we began to leave the room.

"Night Klaus," we called over our shoulders, going our separate ways.

"Nighty night!" Came the muffled reply from his room.

The trio of the 'higher numbers' was capable of being very cruel and each time it hurt no less. They banded together and the competition that sparked between them (especially Luther and Diego), caused them to take it out on the rest of us.  
They were always well aware of the mess they left in their wake and never had any intention of cleaning it up.

Naturally, because of the 'higher numbers’, the 'lower numbers’ clique was formed. Although we didn’t have an insufferable nickname for ourselves. It would appear as though we just stuck together out of necessity, but that wasn’t the case.  
The five of us got along great. With the exception of Klaus, all of us generally were happy to sit together reading. Klaus would find another way to entertain himself quietly, usually carelessly doodling on a piece of paper while listening to music on his walkman. We were all just content enough to sit and enjoy each others company.

Sometimes we would sit together in someone's bedroom and elect someone to read aloud. Often it was Five, who we suspected liked the sound of his own voice a bit too much. Five would always choose to sit against the headboard of the bed, with exactly two pillows propped up behind his back. Vanya could usually be found at the end of the bed, by Five’s feet, curled up with a blanket thrown around her shoulders.  
Meanwhile, Ben would be perhaps the most normal of the bunch and sit in a chair, he would lean forwards and rest his arms on his knees, always paying rapt attention.  
Klaus and I would often be sprawled out on the floor, taking whatever cushions and blankets we could find to make it a softer spot. Klaus would listen idly while also busying himself, usually by braiding my hair or painting someone’s nails.  
We could all sit for hours at a time listening to Five read until his voice started to become hoarse, simply just enjoying the peace we had managed to create for even a few hours. Those were some of the times I treasured most.

Perhaps one of the oddest cliques of the Academy was the 'even numbers’, which consisted of Diego, Klaus, Ben and myself. But unlike the 'higher numbers', when Diego was with us it was like he was a whole different person. That once cruel boy who would say whatever he could just to make us hurt was gone. And in his place was a boy with a mischievous smile that graced his face. He was confident and witty. But he also showed his more caring side around us. It was sometimes unbelievable how different he was. But we knew that how he acted around the 'higher numbers' wasn’t truly him.

But the 'even numbers’ were feasibly the most rambunctious of the cliques when we got together. Often coming together to perform silly stunts that would usually land us in trouble with either our father, Pogo or Mom.

Diego and Klaus would be the masterminds behind whatever stunts we were determined to pull. They would come up with insane ideas that sounded as if they had no chance of working. Meanwhile, Ben and I couldn’t help ourselves and would encourage them to follow through with it; this usually only worked if we promised to do it too. But, if for some reason Diego and Klaus were unsure about whatever stunt they wanted to pull off, it only took Ben and I a single sentence to change their minds.

"I didn’t think you would do it anyway," Ben shrugged, as he began to walk back inside from the courtyard. 

"Wait a minute!" Diego cried out, his eyebrows furrowing, "I was gonna do it."

"Woah! Who said we weren’t going to do it?" Klaus yelled at the same time.

I laughed, they were so easy to stir up. It would only take one more push and they were definitely going to do it

"It’s fine, Diego," I cooed, reaching out and brushing his hair back. "We just don’t think you and Klaus are capable of it."

'It' in question was the newest stunt our ragtag group had come up with. Klaus suggested that we take an umbrella each and jump off of the second-floor fire escape and float down, a-la Mary Poppins style.

We were currently in the courtyard surveying the scene to see if this was actually achievable. When this idea was first proposed Ben and I interjected saying that it couldn’t possibly work. But Diego and Klaus refused to listen and once we realised we couldn’t change their minds we did the next best thing - encouraging them to do it.

Diego pushed my hand back with a scrawl and looked back up at the fire escape. It was a rickety old thing that sat about 15 feet off the ground. A sizeable drop and one that an umbrella most definitely wouldn’t soften, but it wouldn’t kill them at least.

"Fine, I’ll do it," Diego said.

Ben and I turned to each other with grins on our faces, it was too easy.

"-but only if you do it with us."

I rolled my eyes, so it was gonna be this way? Regardless, Ben and I were prepared for this and simply nodded our heads.

"Sure, but you have to go first," Ben negotiated.

Diego considered this, "okay, but Klaus has to do it at the same time."

"What?!" Klaus called out indignantly, "why at the same time?"

"So that if something goes wrong it happens to both of us!"

"I did not sign up for this," Klaus sighed as he shook his head.

"It was your idea!" The rest of us cried out to him.

"Oh, fine. I’ll do it," Klaus resigns. He reached over and grabbed both the umbrellas we had leant against the outside wall, passing one to Diego and keeping the other for himself.

"Ben and I have to go get our umbrellas, we’ll meet you up on the fire escape," I said, grabbing Ben’s hand and leading him inside.

Once we were safely inside and out of earshot of Diego and Klaus, we finally let our laughter escape us.

"There is no way that is possibly gonna work," I said as we walked to the entryway where the umbrellas were stored.

"Absolutely not, but at least we don’t have to go first," Ben shrugged, grabbing two umbrellas and passing one to me.

We made our way up the fire escape to where Diego and Klaus were standing, waiting for us. 

"You boys ready?" I asked, leaning against my umbrella.

Klaus scoffed and Diego rolled his eyes. Their egos really were too big for their own good.

"Please, this is gonna be the easiest stunt ever," Klaus said, swinging a leg over the railing.

Diego quickly began to follow suit and soon the two were standing on the edge of the landing, arms tightly gripping the railing behind them. A particularly strong gust of wind blew through and the fire escape creaked loudly. The two boys shared a look of apprehension as their hands gripped the railing tighter.

"You know, you don’t actually have to do this," Ben pointed out.

"Shut up, Ben. We’re gonna do it," Klaus said, his voice coming out more shaky than he intended it to.

"It’s fine, you guys can come back over, we won’t make fun of you," I replied. While it was fun enough to wind them up, actually standing on the landing and looking down made us all realise just how high up we really were.

"Pass me my umbrella," Diego said, reluctantly letting go of the railing with one arm to hold out his hand.

Ben and I shared a look of disbelief as we both passed an umbrella to Klaus and Diego. 

As they popped open the black umbrellas, one-handed, we could see their arms shaking in fear. But they still grinned at us nevertheless, determined not to chicken out of it.

"Alright, we’ll jump on three!" Diego shouts over the wind, which had picked up considerably in the short time we had been up on the fire escape.

Klaus nodded his head and both boys held the umbrellas over their heads.

"One, two-"

"Boys!" Came a demanding voice from below us. "What on Earth do you think you are doing up there?"

We all looked down to see Pogo standing in the courtyard, one hand on his hip and the other holding the cane that supports him.

"Uh, we- um, well-" Klaus stuttered, as he tried to come up with an excuse on the spot but failed.

"All of you come down from there right now," Pogo demanded.

Diego and Klaus immediately scrambled back over the railing, their faces flooded with relief. We all hurried down the fire escape and down to the solid ground once more. 

Pogo hobbled over to us with a look of exasperation on his face, "why would you do that?"

"It was Diego’s idea!" Klaus proclaimed immediately, both metaphorically and literally pointing the finger at Diego.

"No, it wasn’t! You came up with it!" Diego shot back.

"It doesn’t matter who’s idea it was," Pogo interrupted. "You should all know better than that," his eyes lingered on Ben and me.

I bowed my head in shame and next to me the boys did the same.

"Sorry Pogo," we responded in sync.

"You are very fortunate I stopped you when I did. Now, go back inside before you get a cold," he said and we followed his instructions, scampering inside like mice.

We had been extremely lucky only Pogo had found us that day; I can’t bear to this of what could have happened if it had been our father who had discovered Diego and Klaus on the outside of the landing preparing to jump.  
While, Pogo never punished us, and he rarely got angry. He instead used a disappointed tone that stung so much more than our father’s ever could. 

But despite all the cliques, we all still cared for and loved each other. It was easy to see if you knew what you were looking for. One of the moments when it was most noticeable was when Pogo would gather us for dance lessons that our father demanded we have.  
We would fall into a graceful pattern, the familiar steps memorised and nothing more than a second nature to us all. We would begin in certain pairings and, as the dance progressed, we would swap partners. The swaps had been choreographed in and we never skipped a beat as we dance our elaborate dance. Our small giggles would entangle with the music to create an even sweeter symphony. 

I began the lesson with Luther. His hand held my waist and I held his shoulder, and our other hands were clasped together in classic ballroom style.  
We slowly began to dance and as the familiar music filled the room, the steps followed naturally. I had let my mind begin to wonder and in doing so had accidentally stepped on Luther’s foot. 

But instead of the chide I expected from him, I instead got a smile and light chuckle, "come on, Y/N, keep up."

I laughed as he spun me under his arm before assuming our earlier position.

"I do apologise, dear Luther, it may never happen again," I said in an exaggerated posh accent.

He laughed and at the prompting of the music, lightly spun me out to the next partner. It was often during these dances that Luther was at his gentlest. Not only in the way he held his partners, careful not to hurt us with his strength, but also in the way he interacted with everyone. There was no reason for competition, we were simply dancing, and Luther thrived in it. The lack of expectations from our father lifted a weight off his shoulders.

I spun into Diego’s arms who offered me a sweet smile, and I promptly returned it.

"You know dancing with Klaus isn’t all it's cracked up to be," he said as we twirled on the spot.

I laughed and next to us Klaus let out an indigent squawk as he spun in Five’s arms, "I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic dancer!"

Diego looked back to me and shook his head and we shared a grin. Because of the uneven amount of boys versus girls in the Academy, when it came time for our dancing lessons one of the boys had to take place as the one who had to follow in the dance. This would almost always fall to Klaus, who didn’t mind at all. He had a great time dancing with the rest of the boys and I think secretly they all liked it too.

Our dancing lessons were often like this, calm and joyful. There was never a dancing lesson in which someone was in a sour mood, it was a time to be happy and carefree without our father’s watchful gaze over us.

At the end of the day, while we had our cliques and our petty (and not-so-petty) fights, we were all still a family. And we all loved each other very much, that was undeniable. 

I still hold on to the hope that we do still love each other very much. Sure, there are moments now where we don’t get along, and we do hold resentment towards each other in one way or another. 

But that’s the one thing that our father could never quite rid of us. Our love for each other.


	5. The Desire To Be Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updating, I really wanted to get this chapter out a lot earlier but I had finals for uni so they took up a bunch of time. Luckily, I only have one essay left and I’m done for the year which means I’ll have a lot more time to work on this!
> 
> I also thought this chapter was going to be pretty short but it’s ended up being the longest chapter I’ve written yet, so there’s that lol!
> 
> It makes me so happy to see people giving the story kudos and just enjoying it! So I’m glad you guys are liking it! 
> 
> Also just a quick note, but the rating of the story will be going up to 'teens and above'. This chapter does talk about a creepy older man kinda preying on the reader and Allison, and there will be occasional references to adult themes in the rest of the story.

Being in the spotlight never quite reached my expectations of what I thought it would be. As children, we didn’t have access to television or computers. Instead, we had to rely on our father and Pogo for the happenings of the world; unless we snuck out of the Academy, we had no contact with the outside world. But we did have plenty of books. 

The library, in which our studies were conducted, was plentiful with books covering every subject imaginable: physics, language, bibles, even rare books I’m sure people would pay millions to own, were all at our fingertips. 

When we would sit in our circles and have Five read aloud to us we would often beg for him to read our favourite genre of books, fiction. We would immerse ourselves into the land of make-believe. Where there was always a bad guy that would terrorise the city and a hero who would save the day.   
And always at the end of the story, the hero would be praised by thousands and therefore become an idol for everyone to look up to and everyone would live happily ever after.

We couldn’t get enough of these stories, we truly believed that one day we would be the same as the heroes, saving the world from impending doom and looking good doing it. We were also naive enough to believe that we too, would get a happily ever after.

Unfortunately, that meant we had a severely warped perception of reality - a romanticised one.

We soon found out that the world wasn’t split into good guys and bad guys. It wasn’t black and white like our father and our stories had taught us, but in fact, it was nothing but shades of grey. And we too were just as morally grey characters, stumbling along in our made-up worlds.   
How can we be good when we all had a body count to our name by 14 years old? Because at the end of the day we weren’t just superheroes, we were also murderers.

We struggled to come to terms with being in the public eye. It seemed as though in an instant, our faces were plastered on every magazine, poster and lunch box. After every mission, people would swarm outside of the Academy. Flashing cameras from paparazzi would blind us. Signs were held high in the crowds, each declaring a favourite member of the Academy. And the screams would pierce the air; high-pitched screams from young girls, declarations of love for Allison and I from boys and occasionally grown men, and a general cheer of ecstasy to be in the presence of the Umbrella Academy.

But we were never allowed to interact with anyone. Our father always directed us to look forwards and continue walking. Any sign of emotion would be perceived as weak - even gratitude. 

The week after our 13th birthday, we had to do an interview for Teen Vogue. I found it ironic considering we had barely crossed the line to the teenage years ourselves. It was our first interview that wasn’t going to be led by our father - but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch over us like a hawk, ready to swoop in at the first sign of us acting out. Our usually day of study and training had been cleared, especially for this interview.

Before the journalists came in we lined up Numbers One through Eight (minus Seven) and stood with our backs straight as our father gave us a lecture about the upcoming interview.

"You are to speak only when spoken to. You will not speak negatively in regards to the Umbrella Academy; that includes your training sessions and missions. You are to be seated with your backs straight and I want impeccable manners from each and every one of you," He ordered, standing tall in front of us.

We nodded our heads in agreement, but our father still had more to say. This time directly targeting each of us as he walked down the line.

"Number One, you are to take the lead on answering questions and I expect you to jump in should any of your siblings prove to be incompetent in answering any questions."

"Yes, sir," Luther said, standing up even straighter. Next to me, Ben looked over and we both rolled our eyes at Luther’s attitude. On top of the lecture we were currently receiving from our father, Luther had also given us strict instructions on how to act, as to not embarrass him in front of our father.

"Number Two, I expect you to answer your questions confidently and with none of that spluttering nonsense that you call talking,"

Diego flinched away at this, "y-yes, Dad." Despite his hardest, his stutter still tumbled out of his mouth, a habit that still peaked when he was nervous.

The rest of us cringed in sympathy as he stumbled over his words.

Our father fixed him with a sharp glare and Diego tried to give him a confident look but ended up with a look that was more worried than anything.

Shaking his head in disapproval, our father moved to his next target, "Number Three, you will be second in command today, seeing as Number Two is apparently incapable of speaking. I expect nothing more than for you to be confident in your tone."

"Of course, Dad!" Allison beamed, ignoring Diego next to her as he curled in on himself even more. Allison had been waiting for this day for years, finally, it was her time to shine in the spotlight and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin her day.

"Number Four, no nonsense jokes. If I hear one single so-called 'joke' from you, you will have extra training," he stated with a certain look in his eyes. 

This seemed to spook Klaus as he immediately nodded his head and looked to the ground, determined not to meet our father’s eyes. 

I shared a questioning look with Ben who only mirrored my look in return. 

"Number Five," our father said, swiftly moving on, "you are not to get snarky with the interviewer. I expect you present yourself as well-behaved, despite your usual lack of manners," our father sneered.

Five lifted his head up to meet our father’s gaze and gave him a swift nod along with a challenging look. As soon as our father moved on to the next child Five rolled his eyes and gave a rude gesture to our father behind his back, prompting a small smile from Klaus.

"Number Six, you speak far too quietly for your own good and I expect you to project your voice once spoken to. However, I do not want you to speak unless explicitly spoken to. You will remain quiet alongside Number Two."

"Yes, Dad," Ben said, making an effort to raise his voice above its normal level.

"Number Eight," he said, finally coming to a stop in front of me.

I slowly lifted my head up and looked at him, fearful of what was to come.

"You are to present yourself confidently alongside Numbers One, Three and Five. I expect you to answer the questions without your emotions getting in the way. If I so much as suspect you to let your emotions overcome you in this interview, you will be punished."

His words lingered in the air and I felt a heavy pressure place itself upon my shoulders. I was expected to take charge alongside Luther, Allison and Five. My father expected me to smile and charm the interviewer and subsequently everyone who would read that magazine. 

His threat of punishment hung heavy in the air and I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat as I nodded my head, "yes, Dad."

A knocking came from the front door, signifying that the journalist team was here. The sounds of Mom’s high-heeled shoes began to grow louder as she made her way to answer the door.

Turning back us, our father gave us one more piece of advice in the privacy of the Academy, "you are heroes to the public. However, you are failures to me. Don’t let them see that."

And with that, our father briskly turned away. Disappearing up the stairs and into his office. Most likely to watch through the security cameras, to give the illusion of privacy to the journalist team.

My stomach dropped and I felt the indifferent look on my face fall as the implication of my father hit me. Glancing down the line at my siblings I saw similar reactions as we let the harsh words wash over us. Even Luther, who usually stood up so straight you would think a pole had replaced his spine, slumped his shoulders slightly and he shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.  
It was a hurtful reminder and one I’m sure our father used purposefully to get us to perform even better in the interview.

We were dragged out of our self-pitying by the sounds of a journalist team making their way to the living room where we were waiting for them.

Mom entered first, her smile plastered on her face as she elegantly led the way. "And here are the children, all ready for their interview!"

Behind her a man and a woman dressed in business casual followed behind her, their eyes immediately locking on to us as we entered their vision. The woman immediately beamed, tucking her folder under her arm and clasping her hands together as she took us in. Meanwhile, the guy next to her had the opposite demeanour, his eyes narrowed as he scanned over us as though sizing us up. When his eyes reached me I lifted my head and levelled him with a glare. What was his problem?

"The Umbrella Academy! It’s wonderful to meet you all!" The woman said, stepping forwards. "My name is Elena and I’m going to be conducting this interview today! Which just means I’m going to be asking you guys some questions and you just have to answer them as best as possible." Elena finished, her voice overly sweet and she phrased her sentences as though she was talking to toddlers and not superheroes who had been training and studying their whole lives.

But, not to disappoint our father, we all nodded and I forced a sweet smile on my face to match the one on Elena’s. 

Unperturbed by our lack of responses and enthusiasm, Elena continued to talk, opening up her folder and shuffling through some pages. "How about we all sit down and relax? Hm? This is going to be a very easy-going interview."

At her prompting, we awkwardly sat ourselves down on the stiff couches, careful to remain in our numerical order. Luther, Diego and Allison all took up one couch, which left Klaus, Five, Ben and I to shove ourselves together on the other couch. It was a tight fit, on one side of me I had the hard edge of the couch digging into my ribs, and on the other Ben was pressed softly. I shifted in my place, trying to move away from the hard edge but in doing so bumped Ben, who in turn accidentally bumped Five. 

This caused Five to turn towards the both of us and glare as he purposely shoved Ben back into me. As I craned my neck around Ben to give my own glare to Five, a high-pitched giggle interrupted us.

"Oh dear, I can’t imagine having so many annoying siblings to deal with," Elena said. Her voice snapped us back to the task at hand and when I looked across at the other couch, Luther, Diego and Allison were all glaring at us, a non-verbal message to get our act straight. 

I slapped a sweet smile on my face as I turned back to Elena, who was now seated in an armchair, her folder opened on the coffee table in front of her and a tape recorder next to it. Behind her, the man stood unmoving, but he had now opened the bag that had been hanging at his side and was holding a camera. The smile on my face flickered as his eyes once again dragged over me, slowly and creepily. 

Noticing my gaze had shifted, Elena followed it and faced the man, her eyes brightening as she turned back to us. "How silly of me! This is Jeff and he’s my photographer, he’s going to be taking some pictures of you all when the interview is done and we can put those in the magazine as well!"

We once again nodded in understanding but I didn’t allow my eyes to move off of Jeff, who’s gaze had now fallen to Allison. 

Clapping her hands together once more, Elena pressed the record button on the machine and picked up some pieces of paper from the coffee table that contained the questions she was going to ask. Our backs automatically straightened back up and we all sat attentively, waiting for the interview to begin. 

"Okay! So here we go! The first question I have for you guys is: What is it like being the world’s first teenage superheroes?" Elena questioned with a bright smile on her face.

"Being the world’s first superheroes is an honourable title to give us…" Luther began, immediately launching into leader-mode as he took on the questions.

Luther took charge of the interview, along with Allison who shone in the spotlight, for which I was grateful. Dad’s harsh words had shaken me but I spoke with a smile on my face and a sweet chime to my voice, giggling when prompted and acting bashful when complimented. The overtly sweet natures of Allison and I shone through to smother the brutal nature of our missions.

After the interview, we once again lined up in numerical order to have Jeff take pictures of us. He began by taking a headshot of each of us, starting with Luther.

Luther lifted his chin and level the camera with a confident gaze, a small smirk on his face. After a few clicks of the camera, Jeff quickly moved on to Diego, who stood tall with his face impassive. 

Another few clicks of the camera. 

Then Jeff paused in front of Allison, who immediately lifted her chin and tilted her head to show off her supposedly 'good' side (one that only she could see). She posed expertly, her smile perfect and her eyebrows raised just the right amount to show off her eyes.   
Jeff began taking photos, but rather than the hurried few he took of Luther and Diego, he lingered on her. He leaned back and side to side, capturing every angle of Allison’s face. The camera constantly clicking and flashing, barely giving Allison enough time to blink before the next photo was being taken.

This didn’t sit right with me. Maybe if I had been a little less perceptive in my observations, I would haven’t thought anything of it. Allison was born to be in front of a camera and it would just seem as though this guy was capturing her natural talents. But I knew better.

The camera kept clicking and the others were starting to look perplexedly at each other. This wasn’t right. I had to do something to get this guys attention off of Allison. I rattled my head for something that I could do without drawing too much attention to myself. Then it hit me.

I quickly glanced around the room to make sure no-one was looking at me, but everyone’s attention remained on Allison and the photographer. I focused my attention to Jeff and drew upon my power. With the quick flick of my wrist, I managed to make Jeff’s hands fumble and consequently make him drop the camera. It fell to the ground with a large smash and pieces scattered across the ground. Allison stopped posing and we all watched as Jeff became flustered, bending down to pick up what’s left of his camera.

"Oh dear," came Elena’s voice from where she had been standing to the side, reviewing her notes on our interview. "That’s no good, is it?" She asked no-one in particular.

Allison slightly pouted as her moments had been taken away from her, and next to her Diego snickered into his palm quietly. On the other side of her, Ben and Five shared looks of glee as they didn’t have to stand for the stuffy photos. 

Jeff had walked over to Elena where they started to quietly mutter, he gestured down to the broken camera in his hands and she gave him a sympathetic smile and pat on the shoulder as she strolled past him and back to us. 

"Unfortunately, the camera is completely broken. But if it’s alright with your dad, we can come back soon to take more pictures of the rest of your beautiful faces!" Elena said, clapping her hands together again. 

Next to her, Jeff’s creepy stare had once again landed on me and his eyes narrowed down at my hands and then back up to my face. I openly glared at him and silently challenged him to say something, anything. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed out the front door, slamming it loudly behind him. 

Unfazed by this, Elena turned back towards us with a bright grin plastered on her face. "Sorry about Jeff, he gets a bit touchy about his cameras." Yeah, it’s the camera he’s upset about. "I’ll make sure someone is in contact with your dad soon and we can arrange another date for Jeff to come back and take the photos!"

I shuddered at the words. I couldn’t let Jeff come back here. Not with his lingering gazes on us and his creepy nature. Unfortunately, this would soon become a somewhat common occurrence from older men. Men who would leer at us as we walked the streets with our family, men who would make inappropriate comments. This was usually directed towards Allison and me, but occasionally the boys as well. Being in the public eye meant that we were exposed to everyone, even the unsavoury types of people. But this was the first of the occurrences and my younger self did not want to sit back and allow this to happen.

"Maybe a more competent photographer next time… rather than Jeff," I stated, stepping forwards out of our line.

There was complete silence, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. My siblings turned their heads towards me in varying states of shock. My stomach had twisted itself into knots and I felt sick. I could feel my heartbeat racing throughout my body and my ears rushing with blood. This type of behaviour most certainly would be punished by my father. Speaking out of turn and rudely? I couldn’t even comprehend how mad he would be. But I couldn’t sit back and allow this man to come back near my siblings.

The smile on Elena’s face faltered slightly as I could see the cogs in her mind turning to help her come up with a child-friendly response. "Perhaps so," she said simply.

With that breaking the silence, Mom strode back into the room and stood next to me with her hands on my shoulders. Her cool hands grounding me. It was a familiar touch, that reassured me that, at least in Mom’s eyes, I had done the right thing. Despite Mom being programmed by our father, she was first and foremost a guardian. It was her utmost duty to protect us, and I knew that somewhere in her wires, she felt the same uneasiness from Jeff.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet the Umbrella Academy," Elena said with a forced smile before turning her attention to Mom. "Someone will be in contact soon." And with that, Elena briskly walked out of the living room and to the front door, the sound of it closing signifying her exit.

However, before I even had time to take a breath our father was once again downstairs. His presence looming over us and I pressed myself into Mom’s side as his levelled his glare at me.  
He didn’t speak for several moments, instead, he watched us squirm as we waited for his worst. 

"Do you have nothing to say for yourselves?" He finally questioned, his harsh tone breaking the deadly silence.

Luther opened his mouth to speak but was immediately cut off by our father. "That was perhaps the worst I have ever seen the Umbrella Academy behave. You acted like children on multiple instances. How will you ever save the world if you cannot even sit through a simple interview?"

He continued on with his lecture for well over half an hour. He criticised us as a whole, telling us that we had acted immaturely and incompetent. He berated Klaus, Five, Ben and I for our stunt on the couch and he targeted the higher numbers for not doing anything about our behaviour - not they could have done anything without drawing additional attention to it and getting themselves in even more trouble. He then individually targeted us for our mistakes. Simple things such as Klaus slouching slightly exactly 23 minutes into the interview, and Diego stuttering on one of the words of the few sentences he said. 

However, when he finally directed his attention to me, I expected the worst. My palms began to sweat and my breathing had picked up considerably. Mom’s hands on my shoulders were the only thing that kept me from my breaking point. 

But the worst never came.

"Number Eight, not only did you participate in the earlier stunt in the living room, but on several occasions, you stumbled upon your words and had poor sentence structure; you sounded as though you were a toddler, learning to speak for the first time," he said.

I waited for more but it never came. It didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t I being yelled at right now? Why wasn’t my father fuming? I had not only spoken out but I had been purposely rude about it. 

Over the years I’ve tried to comprehend just what had happened. The realistic side of me wants to believe that perhaps our father was already making his way downstairs when the incident had happened and he simply was unaware of it. But the optimistic side believes that perhaps he did see it. How could he have missed it? Perhaps, deep down he knew that I had done the right thing and he simply just did not want to address it. 

Either way, I was flooded with relief. But the twist in my gut was now filled with a bubbling rage directed towards Jeff and his disgusting looks.

Our father turned and once again addressed us as a group. "Due to your disappointing performance, you will all be punished. You are to all immediately go to your rooms without dinner." 

The punishment of no dinner was one that our father began inflicting on us soon after training began. We would be forced to stay in our rooms for the rest of the day until Mom came to wake us up the next morning. We wouldn’t get any food that night and were sent to bed hungry, and in the morning our breakfast portions would be significantly smaller. With such little food inside of us, training that day would be even more exhausting than usual.

Five huffed and blinked away, presumably to his room and the rest of us soon followed suit. Our feet stomped louder than necessary as we all made our way to our rooms and as I reached my room, I yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind me. Down the hallway, the doors belonging to my siblings rooms echoed the sound of mine.

As soon as I entered my room I stormed over to my bed, roughly grabbing the pillow and harshly hitting it against the mattress over and over again until my arms grew tired. We weren’t allowed to scream or yell - it would only get in us in more trouble. The only way we knew to express our anger was through violence. And we did just that. I knew that down the hall in Diego’s room, he would be angrily throwing knives at the wall, each still hitting the mark perfectly. And in Five’s room he would be kicking at his wall, his body restless with the anger and now restriction of his teleportation.

I was so angry. I was angry at the interviewer and her overly sweet personality. I was angry at Jeff and his lingering, predatory gazes on my sister and me. I was angry at my father for sending us to bed without dinner and making tomorrow’s training hell. I was angry at my siblings, for not picking up on Jeff’s behaviour and not helping me stand up to him. I wa-

The pillow in my hands had gone limp and I looked down to see that it had exploded, leaving behind a flurry of white feathers scattered throughout my room. The poster that had been sticky-taped above my bed had also fallen down in my fight with my pillow and had gotten a tear in the corner as it landed on the floor next to my nightstand.

Instead of cleaning up the mess, I launched myself on to my bed, throwing my head back onto the bare mattress. I clenched my eyes shut and held the palms of my hands tightly over them, forcing away the frustrated tears that were threatening to spill down my face.

I began to take control of my breathing, pushing away the heavy breaths and replacing them with carefully measured ones. Three seconds in. Hold for 4 seconds. Breath out for 5 seconds. It was something that Klaus had taught me a while ago, he said he used it sometimes when everything got too much.

As my breathing mellowed out, so did my anger - but a small rage still bubbled inside of me. 

From the room over I could hear a slow song coming from Vanya’s violin. Usually, I loved nothing more than to hear the tunes that she could play. But at the moment, the screechy tune sounded like nails on a chalkboard and each time she hit strings wrong and caused a stray note it made me want to rip out my hair.

Unable to take it any longer, I pushed myself up on the bed and pounded on the shared wall between Vanya’s and my room. "Keep it down!" I cried out angrily.

I had sparked a chain reaction as various yells agreeing with me rang from throughout the house. 

Immediately the music stopped and a silence engulfed me. I let my head fall back against the mattress and let out a sigh. I felt a sense of guilt trickling its way into my stomach and I tried my hardest to push it away.

It wasn’t Vanya’s fault we were upset, it was Dad’s and Jeff’s. And yet we took it out on her. 

But the truth was, we envied Vanya growing up. 

While we had to train all day, every day for life and death situations. Vanya only had to stand by our father and take notes.  
While we couldn’t be out in public during the day without being stopped and recognised. Vanya could walk the streets anonymously.  
While we stood up to adults brandishing weapons in our faces and the threat of death looming over us at any moment. Vanya was allowed to remain in her room at the Academy; safe and sound and practising her violin. 

We envied Vanya, and then envy eventually grew into resentment. 

Our whole lives we were raised to believe she was 'ordinary'. A word that was used harshly by our father, and soon enough my siblings and I, towards Vanya. Our father raised us to believe that to be ordinary was one of the worst things that could happen to a person. He constantly reminded us that we were fortunate to have our powers and without them, we would amount to nothing. Vanya was often around when he said that.

But as we grew up, we came to realise that ordinary wasn’t a bad thing.

It was something we desired. We wanted a normal childhood, and to not have to go on missions and look death in the face - and Vanya got that. 

This caused us to take it out on her, we were simply repeating the words of our father but it seemed to do the trick in making her upset. It was what we wanted to see, for her to feel the same way we felt. Sad, upset, mad at the world for making us who we were. We were children, taught to sacrifice our lives for the greater good. 

But what we didn’t realise is that Vanya had it no better than us. From her perspective, she was alienated from her family and constantly belittled due to something she couldn’t even control. We had been caught in the web of abuse and instead of tearing that web down, we helped expand on it, unknowing of the damage it would later cause.

Ultimately, there were no winners in the Umbrella Academy. We all came out damaged in one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The past two chapters have been pretty rough to Vanya, but I’m not sure it’s going to get any better from here. 
> 
> You might notice that during the meltdown of Y/N that she got very irritated by the sound of the violin, this is actually a real thing called 'sensory overload' which is pretty typical in people with anxiety but can also just happen in times of extreme emotion. But pretty much, every single sound and sensation is amplified by like a million and is just generally unpleasant. 
> 
> The next chapter should be out within the next week! It’s going to be a pretty heavy one that focuses a lot more on the abuse (not physical) inflicted by Reginald.


	6. The Ties That Bind Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo!! I finished this year of uni!! I can now officially put most of my focus on this story which is super exciting!!   
> We are just over halfway through, with 4 more chapters to go!

On our 12th birthday, we were gifted with matching tattoos of the famous Umbrella Academy logo. 

"As we prepare to make our debut to the world as the Umbrella Academy, you must each receive a tattoo to connect you all together. To remind you that you are first and foremost a team and you must act as such," our father had told us that morning. 

We had walked downstairs to find a tattoo artist set up in the entrance hall and seven chairs set in a row. We were forced to forgo breakfast and instead had to sit in the chair as our father explained to us what was about to happen.

"They will make you impervious to the pain and hardship the world will thrust upon you. And believe me when I tell you, life will be hard."

When the idea had initially been proposed to us, we thought it was cool. We whispered amongst each other about how grown-up we would all be with tattoos. How we were so much closer to going public as the Umbrella Academy. How cool it will be to have something that will permanently connect us to each other. It seemed like such an important step in our adolescent lives.

Klaus had jumped at the opportunity to go first, and Allison was soon behind him. But it was only a matter of minutes until they were both standing to the side, newly branded. 

Klaus comforted Allison as she sobbed into his arms and he hurriedly swiped away at the tears that ran down his face. After that, it didn’t seem so cool.

As Diego sat in the chair, he held a strong face, determined not to let his guard down around our father. And as Mom reached out to comfort him, for the first time in his life, he swatted her hand away.

As Number Eight, I was pushed to the end of the line and was forced to wait with terror dwelling inside me as I watched my siblings cry and console each other. 

"Number Five," my father called, as Ben stepped out of the tattoo chair on shaky legs, stumbling his way over to where the others were. Luther was quick to clasp a hand on his shoulder in his detached form of comfort.

Five stood from the seat next to me and walked up to the chair, his face impassive as to not betray any emotions to our father. He sat in the seat and stared unblinkingly straight ahead. Even as the tattoo gun first pierced his skin, the only indication that he had felt anything was the slight tensing of his shoulders.

I sat alone on my chair. My stomach had twisted itself into a million knots and I felt seconds away from being sick. I tried to hide my worry but the obvious bouncing of my leg gave it away. I felt tears pool in my eyes and I dropped my head down to the floor to quickly blink them away and hide them from my father’s glance.  
It seemed like the moment I wished for time to slow down; it sped up because the next thing I knew my father was calling me up for my turn in the chair.

"Number Eight," he demanded.

I lifted my head to see Five standing with the rest of our siblings, his hand loosely clasped around his left wrist where the new tattoo was. I locked eyes with him and he clenched his jaw, giving me a curt nod of the head. He was always so protective of us, doing anything to prevent us from getting hurt due to our father’s actions. But there were somethings that were inescapable.  
I slowly let out a shaky breath and rose from my chair. My knees hurt from the sheer amount of trembling they had been doing and now it made even walking a task. 

Lowering myself into the chair, the burly tattoo artist leaned over, taking no time in roughly grabbing my left wrist and yanking it forwards towards him. In a practised move that no doubt was now probably mind-numbing to him, after so many identical tattoos, he swiped an alcohol wipe over my skin. The swab was cool and my mind, in its preparation for pain, mistaken the coolness for a stinging and I flinched slightly. 

My father immediately caught on to this and sent me a withering glare. 

I tore my eyes away from him and instead looked straight ahead. The chair had been placed strategically so that my siblings were out of my eyesight, the only sense of their presence was the quiet sniffling and murmured words from behind me. 

I didn’t look down as the stencil was applied. Nor did I look over my shoulder at my siblings. I instead copied Five and stared unblinkingly at the wall in front of me. 

The buzzing of the machine started back up and I tensed in preparation. The sound was loud and obnoxious, drowning out everything else in the room until it was just me and the tattoo gun.

The needle hit my skin and I felt the sharp pain.

It felt never-ending.

I had felt pain before. Luther had underestimated his strength. Diego’s knives had nicked me. Allison had once rumoured me to hold my hand under the hot faucet. Klaus had slapped me when I tried to wake him from his nightmares. Five became too unhinged in our spars. Ben’s horror had unleashed itself. But none of that pain had been inflicted by my father. But this was. 

The tattoo had finished and the man stood up from the chair, holding his hand out to my father who handed him a large wad of cash. It made sense that he was being paid so much. No normal person with morals would ever tattoo seven 12-year-olds. 

I stood up with shaky legs and stumbled over to my siblings. Klaus, always the empath, held out his arms and I ran into them. Heavy sobs escaped my mouth as I finally let the pain register. I clenched the fabric of his vest in my fists and pressed my face further into it to escape from the reality around me. His hands ran up and down my back in a soothing motion as he muttered quiet words only the two of us could hear.

My father’s words ripped me from my thoughts and dragged me back to reality. "The ties that bind you together make you stronger than you are alone." He surveyed us with his cold eyes, analysing us. "Training today has been cancelled due to your new tattoos."

And with that our father left for his study. He didn’t wish us a happy birthday, he didn’t applaud us on our bravery for getting the tattoos. He just left. 

Later that day, I sat in my room by myself. I sat by my window and allowed the rays of sunlight to dance over my legs that I stretched out in front of me. It created a soft warmth that I was eager to capture before the winter months rolled in. My book sat on my lap, held open at the same page for 10 minutes as I couldn’t absorb the words that were on the paper.  
In the room next to me, I could hear a sad, soulful tune coming from Vanya’s violin. It contrasted in the air with the giggles of Klaus and Ben as they ran around outside. 

I caught a glimpse of the fresh tattoo on my left wrist and felt a sickness grow inside me. This was going to be on my body forever. A stupid umbrella. I clenched my jaw and let my head fall back, hitting the wall behind me. I hated this thing. I wanted it gone. A clear sticker had been placed over the top of it to prevent any infections, but I wanted nothing more than to rip the sticker off, along with my skin. 

In the later weeks, after the healing process was finished and Mom permitted the sticker to come off, I would sit for hours scratching at my tattoo. Desperately wishing to tear it from my skin. In the shower, I would scrub at it under the blistering hot water, pleading that it would wash away down the drain. 

Once again, our father had found a way to ensure we could never truly escape the Umbrella Academy.

That night at dinner as Vanya reached for her glass of water, I caught a glimpse of her wrist. She had drawn her own replica of the tattoo with a marker. 

At first, I was angry. I couldn’t comprehend why she would want one. I sat in the stony silence of the dinner table and asked myself how she could watch us go through that pain and think it was something that we were pleased about. 

But as I sat on it, I realised. She didn’t want the tattoo or the pain that came with it. She wanted what it represented. To her, the tattoo just further alienated her. We now all had these markings on our skin that would tie us together forever. 

My anger faded and what was left was a lingering sadness. At that moment at the dinner table, I longed to reach out to Vanya, to hold her hands and tell her that she was part of the family, and she was loved by us. It hit me all at once, that Vanya didn’t know that - and it broke my heart. 

We didn’t need matching tattoos or superpowers to tie us together, we already had the shared trauma of growing up in the Academy.

Once I finally gained ownership over my own body, I got another tattoo. On our 18th birthday, both Klaus and I met up and went to the nearest tattoo parlour and got a brand new tattoo. It was one of the first times we got to make a decision that would stick with us forever. 

Klaus eventually went on to get more tattoos, I only stuck with the two; I found that the sensation of the needle was too familiar to that day that was ingrained in our minds and despite the rebellious nature of the act, it wasn’t worth reliving that day.

These days I don’t mind having the tattoo. 

I once considered laser removal, but ultimately decided against it. The tattoo simply sits often unnoticed by me on my left wrist - just another scar left by Reginald Hargreeves.

In some sad way, despite all the angst the Umbrella Academy has caused my siblings and me, I hold the tattoo close to me as I remember that it connects me to my siblings. No matter where we are in the world and how long it’s been since we’ve talked, we still have this piece of ourselves embedded in each other.

And hopefully, wherever Five is, he looks at it too and knows that we are still there for him eternally. 

But the tattoos weren’t the only form of child abuse inflicted on us at the Academy (because let’s be real, giving 12-year-old children tattoos is most definitely a form of abuse).

While our father never raised a hand against us, he did have other ways he inflicted his abuse. 

Emotional abuse is one that is less talked about, but by no means less traumatic. It’s still to this day that the sound of a whistle triggers my fight or flight response, and the sound of a cane hitting the floor makes me flinch.

I tried to minimise the extent of our abuse. Rationalise it even. Because I didn’t want to believe that our father would do such a thing to us. Despite everything he put us through, deep down I wanted to believe that he loved us. That perhaps he was just doing what he thought was best of us.

I used to constantly lie to myself, telling myself that 'it wasn’t so bad’, 'at least he never hit us' and most commonly 'other’s had it worse'. But the comparison game never wins, it’s a constant losing battle. 

"Five? Are you okay?" I asked quietly, peeking my head around his door.

It was late at night and I certainly wasn’t allowed to be out of bed at this hour, but Five hadn’t shown up to dinner, and he didn’t show up when the rest of us gathered in Allison’s room during wind-down time. 

Five was slumped at his desk. His head was resting on a notebook and the pen that had been held in his hand had rolled on to the floor. 

I crept into his room and quietly closed the door behind me, careful not to alert anyone that I was awake. I slowly made my way over to Five’s desk to find that he was indeed asleep. He looked a lot more peaceful when he was asleep, his usual sarcastic attitude had been tucked away and instead his face was smooth of all emotions.

I reached out and gently shook his shoulder. "Five?" But he remained deep asleep. I tried again, shaking a little more roughly this time. "Five. Let’s get you to bed." Nothing. If it hadn’t been for the gentle rise and fall of his back that signified he was breathing I would have thought the worst. I placed my other hand on his opposite shoulder and shook even harder. "Five!" I whisper-shouted. "Come on, wake up!"

With that, he began to stir slightly. His eyes blinked softly open and he gingerly lifted his head off the desk, glancing sleepily around the room before he locked his eyes on me. "Was’ goin’ on?" He slurred.

"You didn’t show up for dinner and I came to check on you but you’d fallen asleep at your desk," I said softly.

A look of confusion crossed Five’s face at this and he looked down at the desk trying to piece together what had happened. "Oh, I can’t go to sleep. I have to do my homework." He said, his voice still groggy with sleep.

I frowned. "Five, you have to go to sleep, you’re exhausted." 

"I don’t have to do anything," he snarked back.

I rolled my eyes and crouched on the floor next to his chair so that I was eye-level with him. "What happened? Why weren’t you at dinner?"

Five shifted his gaze back to the desk and I knew inside his head it was a battle as he decided if he should be vulnerable or once again hide his emotions.

"Please, Five, tell me," I pleaded quietly, reaching out and placing my hand on his knee.

With a resigned sigh, Five began to explain, "I passed out in training today and hit my head on the way down. Mom had to take me to the infirmary to get me checked out."

I gasped. "Wait what? You hit your head? Is it a concussion? Did Mom check properly? Are you still hurt?" I asked, questions coming out at a million miles an hour. 

"Y/N. Y/N!" Five said, cutting me off. "I’m fine now, just tired. It wasn’t a concussion just a bad bump. But Dad said I have to finish my homework."

I scoffed at this. I couldn’t believe our father. Even after Five had passed out from exhaustion, almost gotten a concussion and then passed out again at his desk. Our father still expected him to complete his work. But by the look of determination on Five’s face, I knew I couldn’t convince him to not do his work. So I did the next best thing.

I reached out and gathered all the paper on the desk and the notebook Five had been using as a pillow and dropped it to the floor by my feet. Then I plopped myself ungracefully onto the floor, sitting with my legs crossed. 

"Wha- Y/N!" Five said, outraged. 

"Come on, I’m gonna help you finish this work so we can both go to sleep."

"I don’t think you’re-" Five started to say, most likely telling me I’m not smart enough to understand the things he’s working on.

"Two heads are smarter than one!" I said, with a cheesy grin on my face, opting to ignore the comment that was about to come out of his mouth.

Five shrugged his shoulder before sliding off the chair and on to the floor, picking up the pen that had rolled out of his hand. 

We bent over the paper and began to work. While he was correct in that I could barely understand the quantum physics part of his homework, I already knew the answers to the english literature work that I had completed only a couple hours earlier. So I picked up another pen and began to write in the answers for him in a botched attempt of his own handwriting. 

After a while, I moved on to his maths homework and we had shifted from our original spots and laid on our stomachs, where we silently worked occasionally leaning over to the other for guidance. It was nice. Usually, during our study hours, Five is miles ahead of us all (except Ben) and he doesn’t help us with any of the answers, claiming that we should just catch up with him rather than cheat off him. But on his own, when there’s no one to compete against, he’s nice. He leaned over my shoulder and gently corrects any mistakes I accidentally made and when he gets to a tricky part of his physics homework that he was still completing, he’ll even ask me for input and bounce ideas off of me - not that I was much help.

We stayed like that for a couple of hours, steadily making our way through the excessive amount of work. Then suddenly our tranquillity was interrupted.

The door slammed open, making both Five and I jump out of our skins and scramble to sit up. Our father loomed in the doorway glaring down at the both of us. My stomach dropped and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Five’s face pale significantly.

"Number Eight, what are you doing out of bed at this hour?" He demanded.

"I was just helping Five with his homework," I replied meekly.

Our father took a step into the room and closer to us, making me lean back until my I had to splay my hands out behind me to stop myself from falling.

"Number Five is capable of completing his own homework, Number Eight. This is not permitted."

I felt my earlier anger at my father claw its way back to the surface. "He’s hurt! You made him pass out in training and he hasn’t had dinner!"

"Number Eight!" My father cried, attempting to stop my rant. But I had started and by god I was going to finish this if it was the last thing I did.

"And he most likely got a concussion from hitting his head and I found him passed out at his desk. This isn’t fair on him! He needed the help! You’re always going on about teamwork but now that I actually help him you’re unhappy! Nothing we ever do can make you satisfied!"

"Number Eight! That’s enough!" He roared, striding forward and roughly grabbing my forearm before dragging me to my feet.

Upon finishing my rant and being manhandled by my father, I finally took a chance to look around. In the doorway stood Mom as she tried to usher my ogling siblings back to bed. Pogo had also made his way to the bedroom and was standing just behind my father. And next to me, Five had a look of pure shock on his face.

"This outburst of emotions is completely unacceptable, Number Eight. You have once again proven to me that you are incapable of controlling your emotions and for that, you shall be punished." My father said as he began to drag me out of the room and down the hall.

"No! No!" I begged. I no longer cared about keeping in my emotions. I just wanted to be saved from my punishment. As we walked past the door I latched on to the frame, curling my fingers around the wood and holding on with all my strength. 

My father tugged on my arm roughly. "Number Eight! If you do not let go of the door this instant your punishment will be extended."

"No! I’m not going down there!" I cried out, tears freely falling down my face.

I closed my eyes and grasped on to the door frame as if it were a lifesaver, and in that moment I thought it was. 

But suddenly, I felt two arms circle around my waist and I was lifted cleanly off my feet. 

Luther had picked me up upon our father’s silent demand and he hoisted me over his shoulder. My hands were ripped from the door as he used his unnatural strength to carry me away. My fingernails had begun to bleed from how hard I had been pulled away, but I was uncaring. I would do anything to not be sent back to the Chamber. 

I curled my hands into fists and beat on Luther’s back. "Luther! Please! Don’t do this! Please!" I begged him, over and over again.

I looked up from his back to see the pitying looks of my siblings as they watched me be carried away. 

My sobs shook my body as Luther carried me down to the basement, loyally following our father. "Please, Luther. Please," my begs had grown quieter as they struggled to escape my throat and became nothing more than a chant. 

That night I was thrown into the Chamber and locked in for 5 days. I wasn’t given food until Day 3. The lack of natural light meant that I had no idea how much time had passed. No one was permitted to visit. The only contact I had was with Mom when she delivered the two meals a day that I was allowed.

It’s hard to rationalise something like that.

The abuse is not forgotten and it still rears its ugly head in so many unexpected ways. 

It shows itself in Klaus’ nightmares that leave him screaming and shaking. And when I wake him up he curls back in on himself, terrified that I’m just another ghost. I will then have to gently reach out and press my hand against his face, rubbing his cheek soothingly to let him know that I’m alive.  
He then trails behind me from the couch, that he so often crashes on, to my twin bed. It’s a tight fit but neither of us mind, we curl around each other and the contact reminds both of us that we have each other.

It shows itself through Diego’s compulsion to always be the best and come out on top. How he often compares himself to everyone around him, and if he doesn’t end up the best, he goes off and sulks. And his desire to be wanted, to be needed.  
It’s how I know that it’s okay to call him to come kill the spider that’s taken up house in my bathroom. Because even if he grumbles into the phone and chastises me when he finally reaches my apartment. He still shows up every time, and afterwards, he hangs around for the cookies that I learnt from Mom’s recipe. 

It shows itself through my hatred of closed-off rooms. How I have to have my bedroom door opened a sliver at night. Which prompted Klaus to 'acquire' me a doorstop that’s shaped like an elephant and sits by my bedroom door at night to make sure it doesn’t accidentally close.  
And how I have to have my lounge room windows wide open during the day. Despite Diego’s warnings that rapists can climb, he still came over and helped me install fly-screens on my windows as a security measure.

However, despite all the abuse we suffered. How we were constantly pitted against each other as children - we rose above it. While our father never raised us with love and affection, we created it amongst ourselves. The bonds between us were strong and in my mind, there was nothing that could be done to break them. 

At the end of the day we always have been and always will be a family; a dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless.


	7. Number Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for such a delay in updating!! This chapter absolutely kicked my ass. I just wasn't that invested in it and kinda wanted it out of the way so I could write the other chapters. Which leads to my apology for a shorter than usual chapter. The next chapter will also be slightly shorter than usual, however, the chapters after that will be pretty big and I think they're definitely more exciting!

Number Five always had a deep curiosity surrounding the concept of time-travel. Even from such a young age, his curiosity stemmed. 

Scientists liked to toy with the idea of it, but never truly bother to explore it in depth. Making it such an undiscovered and unknown area of science, that, despite all his efforts, Five could never truly wrap his head around it.

It wasn’t unusual to find Five researching quantum physics to grasp the concept of time-travel. Even during our brief half-hour of free time on Sundays, Five could be found curled up in the library, his head buried in a book as he scribbled out nonsensical equations.

He also liked to talk to us about his theories surrounding time-travel. Luther and Diego would brush him off, they didn’t understand what he was talking about and didn’t want to understand. To them, it was an illogical topic that they simply didn’t care about. 

Allison blatantly didn’t care and she showed it. On the rare occasion that Five would attempt to talk to her, she would dismiss him with a swift "I heard a rumour you left me alone."

However, Klaus adored when Five came to talk to him about his ideas, it made him feel loved. Ironically, it was Klaus that Five could talk to the longest about time-travel.

After around 30 minutes Five would usually get bored of everyone’s half-assed answers and would blink away to his own room to work on his work by himself. But Klaus fully immersed himself into those conversations with Five. He had the talent of keeping Five’s attention for hours by asking him ridiculous hypothetical questions about time-travel that would lead Five into a spiral of rants.

But whenever Five talked to me about time-travel, I always entertained the idea for him. In our world of being children with superpowers, what was just another power of time-travelling? The way Five phrased his words always made him seem as though he knew exactly what he was talking about - and I believed him. He had such a way with his words that he could explain exactly, to the minute detail, how he would manage to time-travel. It was an idea that we would always play around with and I encouraged it because I just thought why not? 

I constantly thought that out of all our siblings Five was the smartest, and he, out of all people, would be able to time-travel. And I voiced these thoughts to him. And perhaps I inflated his ego just a pinch too much to send him over the point of no return.

The faithful day that Five disappeared had been painfully ordinary.

Our study session had been overlooked by Pogo, where we sat in silence for the whole five hours. Training hadn’t been particularly gruelling nor easy-going that day. There had also been a lack of arguments amongst us siblings.

And that carried on to our dinner.

Mom rang the bell to signify that dinner was prepared and we rushed down the stairs, promptly taking our places behind our assigned seats. We stood in silence with only the sound of Herr Carlson’s recorded lecture playing in the background as we waited for our father’s instructions to be seated.

He strode into the room and pulled out his chair, pausing momentarily to look at all of us before calling out. "Sit!"

We rushed into our seats and picked up our cutlery, quickly diving into the food in front of us. 

Everyone had fallen into their regular patterns. Up near the head of the table, Luther and Allison were sharing bashful looks between each other and mouthfuls of food. Diego was using his knife to carve into the arm of his chair. Klaus was attempting to roll a joint underneath the table. Ben was barely paying attention to the food on his plate as he was engrossed in the book in front of him. Vanya had her head down, silently eating her food. And I was observing everyone, simply watching.

But Five didn’t touch his food. He glared down the table at our father, who was looking back at him, a silent battle between them both to see who would step down first. Five shifted in his seat as though he was unsure of what to do next. When suddenly, he reached for his knife and jammed it into the table, grabbing the attention of everyone.

"Number Five?" Our father questioned, looking back down to his meal nonchalantly.

"I have a question," Five said, leaving the knife in the table as he clasped his hands together.

"Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No talking during mealtimes. You are interrupting Herr Carlson."

Everyone else at the table kept eating in an attempt to ignore the argument going on. I kept watching though, interested as to where this was going.

Five shoved his plate away from him, "I want to time-travel."

"No," our father replied, sounding bored.

"But I’m ready. I’ve been practising my spatial jumps, just like you said." Five said as he pushed out of his chair and blinked over next to our father. "See?"

"A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time-travel. One is like sliding across the ice, the other akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn." 

I scoffed lightly to myself down at the opposite end of the table at our father’s attempt of a metaphor. He was making no sense, and up next to our father, Five voiced my thoughts. "Well, I don’t get it."

"Hence the reason you’re not ready," our father simply replied, taking a bite out of his meal.

Five glanced down to the end of the table towards the rest of us. Vanya shook her head at Five as a warning to not get on our father’s bad side. But across from her, I shrugged my shoulders at Five with a small smile on my face, conveying a message that was saying 'what’s the worst that could happen?' 

What does our father know about time-travel anyway? He’s not the one with the power - Five is. I thought to myself.

Five saw this and turned back to our father, "I’m not afraid."

"Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it may have on your body, even your mind, are far too unpredictable." Our father started before losing his temper and letting his cutlery fall from his hands and to his plate as he turned to Five. "Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore."

Five stood for a moment and clenched his jaw before turning around and walking out of the dining room.

"Number Five! You haven’t been excused!" Our father called out behind him. "Come back here!"

The rest of us had now forgotten our meals to watch as he ran into the front entrance and out the front door, the door slamming loudly behind him as his final goodbye. 

The rest of us sat in shock at Five’s actions and stared at the last spot we saw him. At the head of the table, our father was fuming. "Children! Back to your meals, this instant!" He demanded.

We quickly turned back to our meals and ducked our heads down, trying to keep from the wrath of our father. 

Dinner finished early that night as we were all eager to get away from our father. And we soon found ourselves huddled in Allison’s room, after bedtime, whispering about what happened.

"Can you believe he actually left, just like that?" Allison whispered from her spot on the floor, where she was leant against her bed.

Next to her, Diego scoffed, "H-He probably was shaking in his boots t-the entire time."

"Like you wouldn’t be if you tried to do the same, Two," Allison quickly retorted.

"Do you think he actually time-travelled?" I asked, clutching the pillow I was holding tighter to my chest.

Klaus, who was currently leaning against Ben’s shoulder, sat up straighter at this. "Please! Have you heard him? He never shuts up about it!" Giggled erupted around the room at this. "He’ll probably show up tomorrow with a million stories about the future!"

"No way," Luther stated from Allison’s other side. "He shouldn’t be using his powers like that without Dad’s permission."

"Like you’ve never done that Luther?" Ben asked from his place next to me.

"Yeah," I tagged on, "wasn’t it just yesterday that you tried to use your power to throw Klaus up onto the second floor?"

"That’s different!" Luther said, his voice getting louder.

"Shut up!" Allison hissed, "you’ll get us in trouble."

Luther looked ashamed at this and Ben and I shared a secret look of triumph. 

"Do you think he’s going to be coming back soon?" Vanya asked, her voice quiet and barely audible. 

The rest of us shrugged and looked to each other for an answer. After several moments of silence, I finally spoke up, resting my hand gently on Vanya’s shoulder in reassurance. "I’m sure he’ll be home soon, he’s probably just out having too much fun now."

But Five never came back. 

The first couple of days after his disappearance were spent waiting in excitement. We waited with baited breaths for the familiar flash of blue light to appear and for Five to boast about his new-found ability. But days turned into weeks and soon we were begging our father to send out a search party for him because perhaps he had just run away from home and gotten lost. And soon weeks turned into months, and our father released a statement to the public that simply said that Number Five was no longer apart of the Umbrella Academy. He also had a painting put up over the fireplace of Five, who stood watching over as we aged into young adults and he remained forever 13.

The painting wasn’t something done out of memorial, it was a threat.

Our father had placed it there as a reminder to us, to never disobey him or we would reap what we sowed. 

It was haunting.

But I didn’t mind the painting, because it reminded me of what Five looked like. Because soon enough, months turned into years and as I would lay in bed at night and my mind would drift to thoughts of Five, I would find myself struggling to remember his face. Sure he had brown hair and green eyes, but did he have high or low cheekbones? Was his nose slightly crooked or had it been straight? The only thing that kept me sane in those moments was going downstairs and looking at the painting. My eyes scanning over each feature determined to commit them to memory. 

The painting of him made him look strong and stoic, and to be fair Five was often like that, he had a strong exterior. He definitely acted like an asshole a lot, but it was a show for our father. He wanted to prove that our father didn’t intimidate him, and unfortunately, oftentimes that meant he had to act harshly towards us. Just to prove to our father that he couldn’t use Five’s love for his siblings against him.

But sometimes it was hard to see past that exterior. He so rarely showed affection towards us, but he did so in his own special ways.

Occasionally, after bedtime, Five would blink into our rooms and talk to us, depending on who he felt like talking to, usually Vanya. But despite his very apparent favouritism, he would make an effort to visit each of his siblings often enough after hours. 

He was also so observant and would notice even the smallest signs that someone was having an off day, and he would then make it his mission to go out of his way for them at least once during the day. The most memorable time was when Luther had been given a particularly harsh lecture from our father which had left him uncharacteristically quiet. And while the rest of us had brushed it off, Five had taken notice of this. 

That night when everyone was asleep, Five blinked into Luther’s room and left him his favourite book about space as well as a sandwich to eat in the morning. The next morning, Luther came downstairs with a smile on his face and a pep in his step as he told us a new space fact. It wasn’t until years later that he even realised who had done that for him, he naturally assumed Allison but she pointed out he locked his door at night and we all came to the same conclusion.

"Five," breathed Luther, his eyes going distant as he thought about his missing brother.

Diego chuckled and flipped a knife in the air, "that son of a bitch was always doing sneaky shit like that. You know, one time I’m pretty he sure snuck into my room and sharpened all my knives for me."

I laughed and nodded my head, "that sounds like him."

And while Five tried his hardest not to show his soft side around anyone, there were times when his tough exterior would slip. It would show in his everyday gestures that he pretended were no worries.

Like how when Luther was having a bad day, he would let him win their spars, though not without a fight. Or when Diego was having a hard time with his stutter in an interview, Five would draw the attention away from him and answer the question instead, swiftly moving on to the next topic. 

It would show when he would make sure Allison ate all her food, despite her insecurities that stemmed from the media that criticised her. When Five would notice that Klaus was flinching at a particularly loud ghost and would direct everyone into another room because 'he wanted a change of scenery'. 

It would show when he blinked into Ben’s room with a stack of his favourite books when the Horror would give him such a bad stomach ache that he couldn’t leave his bed. Or when he made an effort to talk to Vanya, even when our father made it a point to exclude her. 

And it showed when he would blink into the Chamber when I was being punished. Even when he knew it could get him in a world of trouble. He would still show up and help calm me down and remain with me for as long as he could, doing everything in his power to distract me from the room around us.

However, the biggest show of affection from Five was how he would constantly talk back to our father. 

At the time we all just assumed it was him being a smart-ass. But later in life, we came to the realisation that he was doing it to distract our father from the rest of us. He would only push our father as far as he had to, to prevent us from getting punished and instead, placing the punishment solely on himself.

Every day he would make sacrifices for us that none of us noticed. And we used to think that he never came home because he just didn’t care. But I know he cared. 

Five’s disappearance created a rift in the family. At only 13 years old we were down a brother, and our father managed to place the blame on us. Why? No-one knows. There was nothing we could do, Five was determined to time-travel, and whether he did that or not will forever remain a mystery. 

Klaus and I used to sit quietly together and conspire about where he was, Klaus was adamant that he went to the future and was waiting for us and he would boast about the new technology and how he successfully time-travelled. He said that one day we would be old and wrinkly and see a young Five walk past us on the street. 

I was sure he had gone to the past and was meeting all the great scholars that he looked up to; possibly even becoming one, under a pseudo name.

Nevertheless, it was clear there was a shift in our dynamic. Luther and Diego fought more often, Allison demanded more attention, Klaus began raiding Dad’s liquor cabinet, Ben was often found in Five’s room, examining the equations left on his walls. And Vanya, poor sweet Vanya secluded herself even more. There were times that we realised days had gone by where we hadn’t seen Vanya outside of mealtimes. Instead, if you would listen carefully, you could hear a solemn tune coming from her room.

And I myself, tried even harder to become to glue to stick our family back together. I bounced around from sibling to sibling, trying to help our relationships. But it was pointless. Instead, I took the role of protector on to myself, determined to make sure that no-one hurt my siblings, but that too was pointless. 

Because in our world of child soldiers, an abusive father and constant life-endangering scenarios, there’s always danger, and I simply wasn’t enough to stop it.


	8. Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's been a minute. 
> 
> I do apologise for the massive delay in updating. To be honest, I had no direction whatsoever for this chapter and I've been stumped on it for months now. I even considered scrapping it completely and moving onto the next chapter, but I felt like that just wouldn't sit right with me.
> 
> So I finally wrote it! It's definitely not as long as my usual chapters just because I was having so much trouble with it, but I do hope you guys enjoy it and I have a lot more of a clearer direction for the remaining two chapters!!
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking around and reading it!!

It was then at only 17 years old we were hit with another tragedy. 

In 2006, our dear brother, Ben, was killed on the field. 

It had been a mission just like any other until the unthinkable happened. We were overpowered, armed men were streaming into the warehouse from all entrances and we were struggling to even keep them at bay. Luther was throwing them as far away from us as he could, but for every man he threw, another two would appear. Allison stood high on one of the catwalks, shouting rumours at the top of her lungs - but there was only so much reality her rumours could bend. 

Klaus and Ben were fighting hand-to-hand combat with the men in the centre, with neither of their powers being of use. It was far too small of a space for Ben to pull out the Horror without bringing the building down on our heads.

Meanwhile, Diego had quickly run out of knives and we were working together as I would manipulate our enemies to throw them back to us, so Diego could throw it at our next target. We stood side by side as more and more men swarmed around us forcing us to press ourselves against the metal wall as we continued fighting with all our might. 

At this point we weren’t even trying to defeat the bad guys - just make it out alive.

Suddenly a crash sounded from above and Allison cried out. "Help! Somebody help me!" 

Diego and I whipped our heads over to see the catwalk had collapsed from underneath Allison and she was dangling with one arm holding on tightly to the sharp metal that she had caught herself on.

"Allison!" Luther roared, literally ripping the arm off the man he was fighting. He abandoned his post and sprinted to the spot where Allison was dangling.

"Number One!" Diego yelled out, but his voice was lost in a sea of fighting, he turned to me and asked "what are we meant to do, Eight?"

I opened my mouth to answer but one of the enemies got too close to us. I used my power to reach out and grab the legs of the man closest to us and twist them in a way that would definitely break them and with a shout, he fell to the floor. 

I moved on to the next guy and twisted his ribs, the crack of the audible even over the chaos around us. 

"I don’t know! You’re Number Two, doesn’t that mean you’re in charge now?" 

Diego grunted and threw a knife directly into the heart of a man about two feet away from me. 

"Shit, that was close," I gasped, as I used my powers to manipulate the partner of the now-dead guy retrieve the knife and throw it back to Diego.

Inside my pocket, a crackle sounded from the radio that we were made to carry and a muffled voice followed. I reached inside and whipped it out to hear the tail end of Ben’s question. 

"-we make it out alive?"

With the radio in one hand and my other using my powers to still retrieve Diego’s knives for him, I risked a glance over to Ben and Klaus who were barely able to fend off the enemies anymore. Near them, Allison still was hanging from the catwalk, her hand slowly losing its grasp and below her, Luther was fighting off the men who had once again swarmed around them.

"I think we’re going to have to make a break for it," I said into the radio. 

Something flew past my face and landed next to Diego and I, and suddenly a hissing noise sounded from the object. 

"Shit! It’s a bomb!" Diego cried.

There wasn’t anywhere for us to go, we were surrounded. With only seconds to think, I mustered up all my energy and used my power to sweep back the men, causing them to stumble and a path to be formed for Diego and I. 

The hissing became louder and without a second thought, I grabbed Diego’s hand and ran. 

We made it only a couple feet before the bomb went off, luckily the men took most of the blow but tiny pieces of shrapnel planted themselves into our skin. But we kept running. 

The explosion had disoriented everyone and caused Allison to fall, but luckily Luther was able to catch her in time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him similarly grab her hand and pull her away from the crowd. 

Diego and I ran for the exit, dodging the men who jumped at us and never letting go of each other’s hands. Just behind us, I could hear Allison and Luther following. 

Once we reached the doors we wasted no time in wrenching them open and rushing out of the warehouse. 

The daylight was blinding and we stumbled away from the doors with squinted eyes. I threw my hands on my knees to stabilise myself as I panted for air and next to me Diego was doing the same. 

At the sound of the door slamming, I turned to see Luther closing it with force to ensure none of the enemies could follow us.

"Where’s Four and Six?" Allison asked, frantically looking around.

"I told them to run, maybe they took another exit?" I said, but my mind was already running through the worst-case scenarios.

"Damn it, Number One, what the hell happened to you being a leader in there?" Diego yelled as he squared up with Luther.

Just as Luther went to respond, Klaus stumbled out of the exit, shouting. He looked a sight, with blood splattered all over him and a gash on his head was bleeding so profusely he had to wipe his eyes to see. But it was the words that came out of his mouth next that stopped us all in our steps.

"Ben’s gonna kill himself!" He cried out.

"What?" We yelled out at the same time.

"He’s lost control of the Horror!" Klaus replied.

Inside Ben’s screams echoed as the Horror turned on its owner.

Luther ran for the entrance but as he did a loud crash sounded from inside and the screams of the men intensified as the building collapsed in front of us. 

The Horror had killed its owner in cold blood. And the rest of us were forced to listen to our brother’s screams as he was mauled in front of us.

It was his death that marked our last mission as the Umbrella Academy; and very soon after we began our departures. 

It’s hard enough to witness the death of your brother, but it was his funeral that turning point for most of the Umbrella Academy to realise that we were just pawns in a game to our Dad.

The day of his funeral showed the first snowfall of winter. The snow fell gently from the sky and lightly dusted over everything it touched. It was soft and gorgeous, and it was Ben’s favourite type of weather. He mentioned it to me once, many years ago and it was something that stuck with me. It was such a typical thing of Ben, to have a favourite type of weather. But that was what he was like, he always had an appreciation for the small things in life.

Ben would wait eagerly for the first snowfall of each year. It was like he had a six sense of when it would begin to snow because as soon as that first snowflake would drift down and it didn’t matter what time it was, whether it was 11 am and we were mid-study, or if it was 4 am and we were fast asleep; Ben would gather all of us up to watch.

It was a simple tradition of his, but one we indulged him in nonetheless. Because I think deep down, despite the grunts of annoyance from Diego and the claims of how stupid this was from Five, everyone loved this tradition. For it was one of the rare times where we could sit together and truly feel like a family.

Unfortunately, the first snowfall of winter in 2006 felt like a slap in the face from Mother Nature. The once heartwarming moment that was the first snowfall now felt like a mocking from the universe of our dead brother. The mood in the Academy was solemn, for the first time since our father had adopted us all those years ago, the Academy was silent. 

It was a quiet funeral, with only my siblings, our father, Mom and Pogo in attendance. No-one had spoken all morning, too caught up in our own grief to care about each others. We walked out into the courtyard in a single file line, each holding a plain black umbrella above our head. 

I’ll never forget the moment we first saw his coffin. It sat in the middle of the courtyard, already coated in a layer of snow. It was smaller than I expected, and it only stung even more to remember truly how young Ben was - how young we all were. 

I faltered in my step and behind me Klaus subtly reached forwards and took my hand lightly, guiding me to our places around the coffin.

Across from me, Diego remained close to Mom and next to us Luther stood with his arm pressed reassuringly on Allison’s back. And off to the side, barely noticeable, Vanya stood alone tears already tracking down her face.

Once we got closer to the coffin, we could finally see the finer details. A picture of Ben’s face sat, unsmiling. His image surrounded by an engraving of tentacles and just below his face his number engraved neatly.

'SIX'

Klaus, who had yet to let go of my hand, proceeded to squeeze it so tightly it felt as though my fingers were about to break. But I let him because I understood his pain. A wave of anger bubbled inside me, this wouldn’t be what Ben would have wanted. To be represented by the thing he hated the most and his number? But that’s all he was to our father - the Horror - and all he ever will be. 

It was if I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the coffin knowing that my beloved brother was just inside. Did he look peaceful? Or was his last yells of terror still etched upon his face? 

Tears pooled in my eyes and I bit my lip to will myself not to cry.

"Your father is ready to give the eulogy, children," Pogo said. His voice finally broke the silence and I finally looked up from the coffin to see our father standing at the head of it.

"The world is full of injustice." He began, his face and voice impassive. "Good people die along with the bad. This cosmic equation will never change unless evil itself is wiped from existence. 

"Thankfully, there are powerful forces pushing back against the wicked and iniquitous, individuals who have the strength to pull together against insurmountable odds to face adversity with unblinking courage, and not to hesitate to sacrifice themselves for another. Unfortunately, none of you are such people."

I felt my breath catch in my throat and ext to me, Klaus let out a breath of air and shook his head. I tightened my hand around his and rubbed my thumb over his knuckles soothingly.

"Despite years of training and weeks of preparation, you allowed Number Six to die on this mission."

Allison gasped and turned to our father, "It wasn’t our fault."

Luther once again put his hand on her back, but this time it was to hold her back from talking back to our father.

"Excuses? I will not hear them," our father said, indignantly, "the Umbrella Academy had failed one of their own, the consequences of which are dire. Hold on to this feeling, children."

Klaus shuffled closer to me and we pressed up against each other as we let our overwhelming feelings overcome us and the tears roll down our faces. Allison had begun to cry as well and across from us, Diego looked as though he was close to tears.

"Let it fester in your hearts, so there is never a next time. Training will be canceled today out of respect for your brother. We resume tomorrow at 6 am." And with that, our father concluded his eulogy and promptly made his way inside, Mom and Pogo following. 

"It wasn’t anybody’s fault," Vanya spoke up.

Diego immediately fired back, "how would you know, Vanya? You weren’t even on the mission."

She gasped softly and looked to the rest of us for reassurance, but we were in no place to give it. Instead, she quickly turned on her heel and ran inside, her soft tears transforming into heavy sobs.

"Nice going, asshole," Luther said, turning to Diego.

"What? We were all thinking it," he defended.

"Oh? So you’re thinking, Diego? That’s a first," Allison replied, bitterly. 

"Lay off him, Allison!" I interjected, as I let go of Klaus’ hand and wiped my tears with the back of my free hand. "It’s our brother’s fucking funeral."

"Oh please, Y/N," Allison immediately responded, "don’t use Ben’s funeral as an excuse, you just don’t want anyone attacking your precious Diego."

"Screw you!" Diego shouted, coming to my defence, as he grabbed my hand roughly and began leading me away. 

"Hey!" Luther yelled, following us along with Allison. "Dad was right. We should’ve done more. This didn’t have to happen."

What followed was a monumental fight, that would ultimately contribute to the break up of the Umbrella Academy.

What was meant to be a day dedicated to saying out goodbyes to our deceased brother, ended up being a day of bitter words shot back and forth which led to the end of our family as we knew it.

It was amongst our grief, that our father also organised an interview with the New York Times. The day after Ben’s funeral we had to gather in the living room in our typical uniforms and give an interview. Our father claimed it was to give us the opportunity to apologise to the public for allowing Number Six to die. 

Even in his death, our father refused to call Ben by his name. 

We could tell our father didn’t care about his death, to him he simply lost another pawn in his game. He didn’t - perhaps couldn’t - understand the loss that we felt.

And even after the tragedy our family had been hit by, our father refused to let it impact us, if anything training became harder as he worked us to the bone to ensure an accidental like that never happened again.

Ben’s death was a catalyst for our departures, and in a sick way, I was grateful that my siblings were beginning to formulate plans to leave - because after years of abuse and tragedies, there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.


	9. Our Departures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! We are nearly at the end of this story, just one more chapter to go! It's bittersweet, I'm glad that the story is ending and I don't have to worry about updating, but at the same time, I am going to miss writing for it.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and the final one is already halfway written so you guys can expect that soon!

If I had thought the family was fractured before, we were now completely shattered. The destroyed pieces of our family were scattered, never to be complete again.

We were never once whole again after Ben’s death. 

And only 3 weeks before our 18th birthday, Diego was the first to leave.

It was once again a night filled with insomnia. I laid in bed and stared at the old ceiling as sleep escaped my clutches. My eyes traced along the cracks and dips in the roof, searching for something to occupy my time. I soon enough felt myself drifting to sleep, my thoughts had long trailed off and my eyelids heavy. But it felt as though every time I found myself drifting to sleep, Ben’s screams would ring throughout my ears and I would be jolted awake with a new wave of grief washing over me.

A soft knock sounded at my bedroom door. I confusedly peered through the darkness at my clock to see the red numbers blinking back at me, indicating that it was just nearing 4 in the morning. 

Who could be knocking at such a time? And why?

I knew it couldn’t be my father, he would already be barking orders through the door, or most likely send Mom. And it certainly wasn’t her as the knocks didn’t sound like her perfectly measured ones.

The knocks sounded again, slightly louder and slightly more urgent.

I pushed myself out of my bed and crept over to the door, quietly pulling it open to reveal Diego sulking behind it - this was unusual in itself at such an odd hour, but something else wasn’t right. He wasn’t dressed in our usual pyjamas or even our uniform. But instead, he donned a black long-sleeved shirt and a worn-out pair of jeans. His knife holster was still strapped to his chest with as many knives as he could carry crammed in there. And an old backpack was slung over his shoulder, so full that the seams looked seconds away from ripping and spilling its contents onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him from the hallway into the safety of my bedroom. But he tugged back, a determined look on his face.

"I’m leaving," he said, his voice wavered slightly but he showed no other signs of distress.

I felt a sense of dread fill me. We had only just lost one brother, I couldn’t bear to lose another so soon. I felt myself subconsciously grip his forearm tighter, as if I had suddenly gained Luther’s powers and I could hold him here with my strength alone. My nose burned and I felt my eyes moisten as tears threatened to fill them.

"But, you can’t leave. Where will you go?" I asked, in a selfish attempt to get him to stay.

"I’ll figure it out, anywhere has to be better than here."

"Please, Diego, I can’t do this without you," I said. Whatever this was he seemed to understand. Living under our father’s roof, with his rules, his experiments and his abuse.

He reached out and took my remaining hand with his own, squeezing it gently, "then come with me."

A heavy silence hung in the air at the proposition.

Could I do it? Fill a backpack with my belongings and escape with Diego? Leave the Academy and all its tainted memories of our childhoods once and for all? Never having to look back.

But I remembered my siblings. I remembered their grief and their traumas and I remembered that they couldn’t do it alone. I feared that both of us leaving would completely destroy the family. I felt that it was my duty, not to my father, but to my siblings, to stay and protect them.

And in the hardest decision of my life, I shook my head, "I can’t."

Diego nodded his head as though he already knew my answer and in a final goodbye, he gathered me in his arms. 

I squeezed my arms around his torso and tried to pour as much love into the hug as I could. I rested my head against his chest and finally the tears that had been slowly clouding my vision dripped down my cheeks. Diego rested his head atop of mine and I felt his breath brush through my hair and I relished in a moment that I knew we wouldn’t get again for a long time. 

Finally, he pulled back, his hands remaining on my elbows as he looked over me one last time before he left, "c-come find me when y-y-you’re out."

I sniffled and smiled sadly at him, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand, "it’ll be the first thing I’ll do."

And with one final smile from Diego, he took off down the hall, leaving the Academy once and for all.

It was as though Diego leaving was a trigger for the rest of my siblings to take their leave.

Allison was next. She had been secretly meeting with agents and had signed a contract with a director to star in his next movie in Hollywood. On the day of our 18th birthday, she made us all gather in the foyer to say our goodbyes to her and she made sure to hug all of us before stepping out the front doors into her taxi.

Vanya followed soon after. Apparently, she had been organising with Pogo to go to a community college in the next state over. And finally, her day had come for her to leave and move into her dorm. It came as a surprise to all of us as she said her goodbyes after breakfast with only a small suitcase in tow and her violin case grasped tightly in her other hand.

Klaus simply stopped coming home. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for days at a time doing who-knows-what. But one day, he must have made the decision that he was leaving once and for all.

Finally, only Luther and I remained. And despite all my begging, it was apparent that Luther was determined to stay in the Umbrella Academy, even if it only consisted of himself.

So eventually, I finally made my own departure.

I packed a duffle bag with the pathetic amount of 'normal' clothes I owned that I had gathered over the years. I also packed the few personal items I had collected. A photo-booth strip that featured all my siblings crammed into the booth, that we had gotten when we snuck out to the cinemas one night, a copy of Ben’s favourite book that had his personal annotations scribbled inside, and a stuffed elephant that Diego had won me once at an arcade. 

I made my way downstairs where Mom, Pogo and Luther stood, waiting to say goodbye. 

I hugged Mom first, her slightly cool body a familiar sensation and one that while should be unnerving was comforting for us children of the Academy. 

"Bye Mom, I love you," I said to her, smiling sadly and swallowing the lump in my throat. 

"Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon," she said with her ever-present smile.

I glanced down at this and held my tongue, knowing that she didn’t truly compute that I wasn’t coming home.

I swiftly moved on to say my goodbyes to Pogo, who merely stuck out his hand for a handshake. I felt my heart sink at this, I thought we had meant more to him than a handshake, he had raised us from our births and all I got was a handshake goodbye?

But as I placed my hand into his, I felt him slide something into my hand and as I glanced up at his face he sent a subtle wink at me. I quickly pulled back my hand to find five crisp $100 notes sitting there that I quickly shoved into my pocket. 

With a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure my father wasn’t in the room, I turned back to Pogo and threw my arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze.

"Take care, Pogo," I whispered, pulling back.

"And you too, Miss Y/N."

Finally, I moved onto Luther who stared down at me with an expression that I couldn’t dissect. 

"It’s not too late to come with me?" I offered, in a last-ditch attempt.

Luther shook his head with a resolute expression taking over his features, "I have a duty to serve the Umbrella Academy and to protect the public," he said, his words sounding exactly as though he parroted them from our father - which he most likely did.

I nodded my head with a slight frown before pulling him into an embrace. His tall figure dwarfed me and his arms rested painfully gently on my shoulders, as though he was scared of his own strength. 

"I’ll miss you," I said simply.

"I’ll miss you too, be sure to visit," he responded.

I nodded my head but felt guilt consume me as I knew I would never step foot back into Academy so long as my father should live.

I hiked my duffle bag up onto my shoulder and with one last wave, I voiced my goodbye, stepping out of the Academy with a sense of finality.

It was definitely a reality shock to begin living on my own. 

I had saved up as much money as I could from our weekly allowance, but even combined with what Pogo had managed to slip me, it still was barely anything to make it in the real world. Almost immediately after stepping out of the Academy, I knew I was in trouble. Despite watching practically all my siblings make their way into the real world, I had no clue what to do with myself.

The first year was the hardest.

I realised we had never gained any life skills in the Academy. Sure we had learnt life-saving skills, but I had never learnt how to shop for groceries, or pay bills, or even what a credit score was or why I needed one. 

My first month living away from home was in a dodgy motel on the bad side of town. The room was old and dated and smelt like someone had died in there, and the bed was no better, with moth-bitten covers and a mattress that was so stained I couldn’t tell the original colour. But the owner was nice enough, I explained my situation as vaguely as I could without giving away too many details and he allowed me to stay for as long as I needed, as long as I paid him rent each week. He told me this was more a pay-by-the-hour place and back then I had simply furrowed my brow and wondered what someone could possibly need a motel room for only an hour for.

Despite careful planning and budgeting, due to my lack of income, I had been left with about $20 a week for food. I tried my hardest to stick to my budget, bulk buying rice and canned foods. But with only a kettle and ancient microwave to cook, it was practically impossible to make anything.

And soon enough, my grumbling stomach turned into pangs of hunger that would rocket through me, twisting my stomach into knots that would tighten at the mere thought of food. It wasn’t until I looked into a mirror and could barely recognise myself that I realised I needed to do something.

I had to resort to stealing. 

It was humiliating. All my life I had been raised as a crime-fighting superhero and almost the minute I left home I had to become what I was against. 

It almost made me consider going back to the Academy - almost. But I knew that going back would mean defeat. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to stand the smug face of my father, who would ultimately make it his personal mission to make my life even worse than it was at that point. 

One thing I definitely hadn’t considered was just how recognisable the members of the Umbrella Academy were to the public.

It was the late afternoon, which I had soon come to realise was peak time for people to go grocery shopping, which was perfect for me. It allowed me the opportunity to walk into the supermarket and disguise myself amongst the customers. With so many people crowding the aisles, the employees were too busy helping them to even notice 18-year-old me, casually slipping things into the backpack that hung off my shoulders.

I had just finished my 'shopping' trip, but I’d gotten too cocky. My bag was full to the brim of stolen items (mostly food) and I’d let my guard down, convinced that no-one was watching me.

But I was wrong. 

I made my way to the exit, and just as I passed the checkouts I heard a yell behind me.

"Excuse me, miss. We need to check your bag! Miss!" 

I froze in my spot, I hadn’t prepared for this. But it had also caught the attention of the customers around me. All too suddenly, I heard murmurs scattering throughout the crowd.

"It’s that girl from the Umbrella Academy."

"Is that Number Eight?"

"Y/N Hargreeves?"

I had no choice but to make a run for it. I bolted for the exit, pushing my way through crowds of innocent shoppers, trying to make my grand escape. But someone inside must have recognised me earlier because before I knew it I was being flocked by the paparazzi. 

I was swarmed. Everywhere I looked there were people with cameras and microphones. Questions were being yelled at me, overlapping each other until it was just one big roar from the crowd. My vision grew weird as the flashes of their cameras dazzled me.

This was nothing like I had ever experienced. When I was with the Academy, the paparazzi wouldn’t dare come so close to us with our father’s looming presence. But my father wasn’t here to escort us away and bark at anyone who got too close. There wasn’t the reassuring feeling of having my siblings close by. A limo wasn’t waiting for us to clamber into. All that had been thrown out the window now that I was alone.

So once again, I ran.

People flooded my path and I took no care as I shoved my way out, using my power to sense the bodies of the people and push back anyone who came too close to stepping in my way. 

My dirty sneakers pounded at the pavement as I ran away, losing myself in the streets of the city. I didn’t slow down once. It seemed that my training had come in to use as I twisted and turned down the alleys, climbing fire escapes and jumping fences. Even after I was sure that I had lost them all, I kept running for fear that they would catch up.

When I finally slowed it was only because I had become so light-headed that I almost stumbled head-first into a brick wall. 

Sometime during my getaway, it had gotten dark and I was now lost in the middle of the city, with no idea of how to find my way back to my motel. 

This part of the city was most definitely seedy, so I kept walking. I glanced around trying to find anything that could tell me where I was or where I needed to go, but the people that were lingering on the street were looking at me in such a way that I didn’t dare stop to ask for directions.

After hours of walking, I had gotten nowhere closer to my makeshift home. I decided to sit down in a bus shelter that I had passed at least three times in the past 2 hours. My feet were aching and I was dehydrated and starving. I finally allowed myself to reach into my backpack and pull out my stolen food. 

As I quickly made my way thought a muesli-bar, I saw a dark figure out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t make out much but they were idly standing next to a building at the corner of the street, concealed by the shadows of the night - and they were definitely watching me. If it hadn’t been for my training and my powers, I wouldn’t have sensed them. I kept my gaze trained on them, as I zipped up my bag, ready to make a run for it if needed. 

I wanted to make a break for it, but I was worried that any sudden movements would trigger them. So instead, I forced myself to slowly stand and calmly begin walking away, keeping my senses from my powers trained on them.

But as I began to walk away, I noticed that they started to walk in my direction as well. I picked up my pace and sure enough, the person behind me did as well. I wasn’t worried about being attacked, I knew I could handle myself - but it certainly wasn’t ideal.

I turned a corner and began to run again, trying my hardest to keep my footsteps silent. And just before the person following me turned the same corner, I slipped into an alley, hoping they’d run straight past and give me a chance to take them on.

My pursuer took the bait and just as they ran past the alley I was hidden in, I jumped out, using my power to make their feet stumble over each other. 

They tumbled to the ground and I took the opportunity to kneel on their back, simultaneously pinning their arms behind them as well.

Up close I could tell it was a young man, with short black hair and a medium build, he seemed strangely familiar, but it wasn’t until a muffled groan came from the guy that I flipped him over and stared in shock.

"Diego?" I cried, still holding him to the ground.

"Y/N?" He questioned with another groan, blinking rapidly.

I jumped off him and reached down to grab his hand, pulling him up from the ground and before he even had time to dust himself off, I launched myself into his arms, laughing (probably slightly hysterically from the scare).

I pulled back and he smiled at me, but it was short-lived before I hit him in the shoulder. "What the hell do you think you’re doing following people around like that?"

Diego’s eyebrows furrowed together as he rubbed the back of his neck, "what? I’m keeping them safe by watching them."

I snorted, "god, Di, you’ve probably scared the shit out of half the population following them around like some kind of rapist!"

"R-rapist?" He spluttered, looking taken back.

I rolled my eyes and smiled at him, how can someone who knows three languages and studied at a college-level when they were 11 be so dumb?

"Di, you can’t follow people around at night."

He mulled it over for a second before nodding his head, "yeah, you’re probably right," he muttered.

"I know," I agreed.

A breeze blew through and I shivered, with all the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I hadn’t realised how much the temperature had dropped. I rubbed my hands over my arms to warm myself up and as I looked up I noticed Diego looking at my outfit with a poorly-hidden scandalised look. 

I glanced down at myself and felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I couldn’t afford to do my laundry yesterday and all I had to wear was an ill-fitting dress from a photoshoot we had done when we were 15. I had grown significantly taller and filled out more since then and the dress was now too tight and too short, but it had been my only option.

Before I could say anything, Diego had pulled off his jacket and shoved it into my hands, and purposely looking upwards, not saying a word.

I took off my backpack and put it by my feet, grateful for the absence of the heavy weight on my shoulders. I pulled on his jacket, which hung loosely on my frame, it’s warmth immediately enveloping me along with Diego’s scent that intertwined with the fabric.

"I didn’t have anything else to wear," I offered as an explanation, but Diego simply shrugged his shoulders, obviously uncaring about my fashion faux-pass.

"What are you doing out here so late?" He asked, instead.

"I got recognised at the store and the paparazzi swarmed me, I ran away but got lost. I’ve been trying to find my way home for hours now," I explained, glossing over the part where I stole from said shop.

Diego bent down and picked up my backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, "where are you living now?"

"The motel on Fourth street."

And without so much of a shred of judgement, Diego walked me home, ensuring that I was safely in my room and that the door was properly locked from intruders before he left. He also left me with a slip of paper with his own address, which was the boiler room of some gym and the promise that we would meet up again soon now that we knew where the other lived.

The next day my face was planted on all the magazines and tabloids in the city. Pictures of me in my ill-fitting dress with my greasy hair and backpack full of stolen goods. Some headlines claimed I was homeless, others said that I was drug-addicted and selling myself for money. My entire reputation of the Umbrella Academy sweetheart had been ruined in one night. 

I want to lie and say that I was happy about it, that it was one last laugh in my father’s face. But the truth was, I was devastated. 

It’s hard to detach yourself from the only life you knew, and to see that life come crumbling down around you was horrifying. 

The tabloids lived for it though, and for a few more years occasionally one of my siblings would pop up in the magazines: Klaus entering a rehab centre, Luther after another successful mission, Vanya when she released her biography. 

Until eventually, they lost interest, no-one wanted to hear about the washed-up teenage superheroes anymore - only Allison, the Hollywood starlet, was of interest to anyone.

The day after that tabloid I gather all the money I had on me and went to the nearest drugstore, where I bought a pair of scissors and a box of hair dye. 

I went back to my motel and sat myself in front of the bathroom mirror and began my transformation. 

With shaky hands, I chopped my long hair to just below my chin in a rough bob. Our father had always made us girls grow our hair long. I then took the box of dye and sloppily dyed my hair. It was something that I had never done before, something that had never even been allowed to be done before. 

As I stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror I could barely recognise myself. It was inconspicuous. It was perfect. 

But it wasn’t. 

I sat in the motel room and cried because it felt that by cutting my hair I had finally cut off my entire family and all the memories that came with it. My long hair had been a defining part of my looks all my life, and now it was gone. Upon reflection, it was a trivial thing to cry about. But I was 18 and on my own in the big world, and the last connection I had to my childhood was now gone.

I dried my tears and tried to tell myself I was being stupid, and instead, I turned on the television to distract myself. And suddenly it was as if fate itself played a role in my life as I watched the television to see Allison in her newest role for a film, with her hair dyed with streaks of hot pink - something our father most likely would have had a heart attack over if we were still in the Academy. 

It reminded me that it was really a silly thing to cry over. Hair would grow back and my identity didn’t rely on the colour or length of my hair. And my siblings didn’t care what I looked like, they knew the real me, something the public would never know.

And the next week when I met Diego for lunch, he simply nodded his head in approval before asking what I wanted to eat.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! If you have the time, feel free to leave a comment with feedback! I'll appreciate any I can get! Hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon! x


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